


The World Without Walls

by PresquePommes



Series: The World Without Walls [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ambiguously Gendered Character, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Conflict of Identity, Hand Jobs, INDEFINITE HIATUS, M/M, Sexual Tension, Suggestions of ADHD, Suggestions of OCD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 53,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PresquePommes/pseuds/PresquePommes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world without walls is a big, big place, as it turns out, and finding someone you never knew you were missing in it can be a hell of a thing.</p><p>Alternate character titles include: Erwin "Your Problems Amuse Me" Smith, Mikasa "Painfully Blunt" Ackerman, Armin "Sass Is The Best Solution" Arlert, Eren "More Persistent Than A Terminal Illness" Jaeger, and Levi "Why Are You Crying, Stop That Immediately" ???????. (Now Featuring: Hanji "This Is A Little Bit Illegal, Let's Do It" Zoe and Sasha "There's So Much Food And I Can Have All Of It, This Is The Best AU Ever" Braus.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not sure where this came from. I just sort of started writing.
> 
> (The movie Levi and Eren are watching is the Hong Kong horror film Dumplings, which I will eventually get around to actually watching myself.)

The first time Levi sees him, he hesitates.

He _knows_ this kid.

His face is a generic kind of late-teenage handsome, cheeks still slightly rounded by the last vestiges of baby fat, and there’s nothing about it that really sets him apart from the rest of the sluggish-looking freshmen populating the diner at two in the morning on a Friday in October, but Levi takes one look at the way he’s staring down his textbook, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders tensed like he’s expecting it to bite, and thinks,

_‘I know you.’_

But he doesn’t know from _where_ , and it’s driving him nuts.

When the kid makes eye contact, he knows it’s not just him: surprise flashes across his face, unbundling his knitted brows and opening his eyes wider- _‘greener,’_ Levi thinks, despite the fact that from here, the kid’s eyes are greyed out by distance and dim lighting, and he shouldn’t know what colour they are, because he’s sure he _doesn’t_ know this kid- before the distinct yet distinctly indescribable cast of recognition overtakes his features.

Levi looks away.

His tea is getting cold- _‘not that it was ever hot to start with,’_ he thinks peevishly, recalling the surprise on his server’s face when he’d told her that _no_ , he didn’t want coffee, _just tea, Assam if you’ve got it, but English breakfast’ll do_ \- and he grimaces while he sips it, determined to empty his cup more for the sake of principle than desire.

Fake leather squeaks as somebody slides into the booth across from him, and he looks over his cup at them, irritated.

It’s the kid.

“Are you in Professor Adeoye’s Intro to Philosophy class?” he asks without preamble, only waiting a half a beat to tack on, “Tuesday afternoons and Friday mornings at eight-thirty?”

Levi just stares at him, a little nonplussed. “I’m thirty-six.” As soon as the sentence leaves his mouth, he’s not sure why he said it.

The kid shrugs. “There’s a guy who’s like… sixty-something in my Crim class,” he comments, and then shoves his hand over the table towards Levi, nearly knocking over the sugar. “I’m Eren.”

“Levi,” he murmurs, eying the extended palm and fingers warily until they’re withdrawn. “You make a habit of blindsiding people in diners after midnight, Eren?” He pauses. “And don’t you have class in six hours?”

“Six and a half,” Eren corrects absentmindedly, “I know you from somewhere.”

He’s leaning forward, elbows on the table, expression intense, eyebrows lowered and eyes searching like he thinks staring hard enough will provide him with the answers to all of life’s questions. There’s something hopeful and a little awestruck in his posture that makes Levi suspect that he’s somehow been mistaken for a celebrity. _‘A first time for everything, I guess.’_

Levi sets down his cup and settles back into the upholstery of his booth, eager to put more space between them. “You sure about that?”

“Dead certain.”

There’s no hesitation in his answer. _‘Damn.’_

“I hate to disappoint you, _Eren_ ,” Levi mutters, leaning the weight of his dry tone on the kid’s name, “but I just got here. Haven’t been in town long enough to take a satisfactory dump.”

Eren’s expression puckers and smoothes, turning thoughtful.  Either he’s failed to notice the vulgarity of Levi’s words or he just doesn’t care. Levi suspects it’s the former. This kid doesn’t seem like the sharpest knife in the block. “My family used to move around a lot. You ever been to Tallahassee?”

Levi sighs, glancing around for his server. “I’ve been to a lot of places,” he dismisses. “What makes you so sure you know me?”

The kid barely blinks before he answers. “I just know.” His gaze is unwavering. “And I saw you looking at me, so I know you recognize me too.”

Levi shoves his cup and saucer to the side, resigned. “Maybe I’m just planning to make you a part of my next human centipede,” he drawls, crossing his arms and sinking against the vinyl. “Shouldn’t you be studying or something?”

Eren’s nose wrinkles and Levi thinks _‘I know you’_ again, eyes fixing on strangely familiar creases.

“That movie was gross as hell, don’t tell me you actually enjoyed it,” he complains.

“I’ve never actually seen it,” Levi murmurs absently. Eren’s mouth opens. “And no, I don’t want to.” Eren’s mouth closes. “Shouldn’t you be studying or sleeping or something?” he asks again.

Eren’s head ducks sheepishly. “Probably,” he mumbles, “but I think I’m gonna skip.”

Levi snorts.

“If you don’t have something due or a test to take or whatever the hell else it is that you college shitheads do these days, why the fuck are you here so late?”

Eren shrugs again. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Levi hums comprehendingly, waving down his server when she passes by.

“Were you wanting another tea or did you want to order something?” She’s pretty, with tight black curls and dark, eternally patient eyes. Levi decides that he likes her despite the lukewarm tea. She gets straight to the point. He can appreciate that in a person.

“Just the bill,” he contradicts, and she nods once before leaving. He directs his next words to Eren, but doesn’t turn, following her receding back with his eyes. “If you’re just going to skip anyway, go home and get some sleep, kid.”

Eren’s quiet for a moment.

“Give me your number.”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“Give me your number,” he insists, gesturing sharply, “and I’ll give you mine.”

Levi is drawing a blank. “Why?”

“Because I know you from somewhere and I want to figure out where,” he says quickly, impatiently, like this is something Levi should already know. “Give me your number so I can text you.”

Levi has no idea why he obliges the kid, except maybe that Eren’s expression is so determined that he suspects he won’t take no for an answer.

He can see Eren eying him suspiciously as he settles his bill with the server, and he meets his inquisitive stare with a sigh. “What?”

“I texted you but your phone didn’t go off.”

It takes a significant amount of effort for him to resist rolling his eyes. He fishes his cellphone out of his pocket and flashes the screen towards Eren lazily. “It’s on silent. That’s a thing you can set your phone to, shithead, maybe you should try it before you piss off one of your teachers.” He’s about to add some variant of _“though I guess it’s probably too late for that”_ when Eren snatches his phone out of his hand.

He tenses, expecting the kid to bolt for a split second- _‘Should’ve known he was up to something, all those loans don’t pay themselves’_ \- but Eren is just tapping furiously at the screen, lower lip tucked between his teeth and expression almost unnecessarily focused, given the circumstances.

“What are you doing?” Levi asks him, begrudgingly amused.

“I’m trying to put in my name, but your keyboard is weird.” He glances up in a way that might be apologetic.

Levi takes the opportunity to retrieve his device, ignoring Eren’s noise of protest.

He can feel his eyebrows rising incredulously. “Jaeger? As in the German word for hunter, or the Jäger in Jägermeister?” He snorts at Eren’s groan. “Your classmates must love you.”

Eren’s exasperation is almost palpable. “God, not you too. It’s a perfectly normal German name,” he grumbles.

When Levi goes to stand, pulling on his coat, Eren follows him, and he stops, leveling him with a stare. “You going to follow me to the shitter now, too? I think we’ve gotten close enough for one night, kid.”

Eren twitches as though he hadn’t realized what he was doing. “You’re shorter than I remember you being,” he blurts, and then flushes.

Levi snorts, fighting back a laugh at the kid’s obvious mortification. “Maybe you’re just taller,” he comments drily, and then spins on his heel, heading for the door. The bathroom can wait. “See you around, you pushy turd.”

He pauses without really knowing why.

“Try not to flunk.”

***

Giving Eren his number is the worst decision Levi’s made since he left New Mexico.

 **_New Message: eren jaeger (met@Shellys AllNite)  
_ ** _how much do u know bout rene descartes **– 13:45**_

Levi makes a point of taking his time about correcting Eren’s contact info before replying.

_More than you know about punctuation, apparently. **– 13:47 (sent)**_

He’s barely set down his phone when the screen lights up again.

**_New Message: Eren Jaeger (Brat from Shelly’s All-Night)_ **  
_OK OK I can use capitals and period n shit if you want, you sound like my Mikasa. **– 13:47  
** You dont need to be a dick about it tho? **– 13:47**_

The hotel is too quiet. He sets his phone to vibrate on a whim.

After some deliberation, he decides not to comment on _my Mikasa_.

 _You even used a comma. I’m so proud. **– 13:48**_  
 _But_ _see, that’s where you don’t use a question mark. **– 13:48  
** Unless you’re honestly asking, in which case: yes. **– 13:49 (sent)**_

He doesn’t bother putting his phone away again- this kid is clearly just as proficient at speed-texting as the rest of his generation. _‘I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle.’_ He eyes the television in his hotel room disinterestedly.

There’s dust visible in the corner of the cabinet that holds it. He grimaces at the discovery. He’s been trying not to look.

_‘I need to find an apartment.’_

And a job, but jobs would come. He has enough money to get him by until one does.

His phone vibrates on his lap, jarring his focus away from the grey corners behind the television.

 **_New Message: Eren Jaeger (Brat from Shelly’s All-Night)  
_ ** _Haha very funny. But seriously what do you know about rene descartes?? **– 13:49**_

He debates whether or not to bait the kid some more, typing out _I know his name is usually capitalized_ before erasing it with a sigh.

_Cogito ergo sum, but beyond that, beats the shit out of me. You’re the one in college, kid. **– 13:50 (sent)**_

His reply is nearly instantaneous.

_cogito ergo sum?? **– 13:50**_

“Jesus Christ,” Levi mutters to no one in particular.

_I think, therefore I am. **– 13:50 (sent)**_

_Therefore youre what? **– 13:50**_

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” Levi mutters again, this time louder, as though swearing will help matters.

_Therefore I’m wondering how the hell you got into college. Go read a fucking book. **– 13:51 (sent)**_

He tosses his phone to the side with a harsh, disbelieving laugh and then groans when it vibrates across the comforter.

 _ **New Message: Eren Jaeger (Brat from Shelly’s All-Night)**  
_ _Mikasa did most of my homework in highschool._ **_–_ _13:51_**  
 _Shes my best friend. **– 13:51**_  
 _Practically my sister_ **– _13:51_**

“Did I _ask?_ ” Levi snaps, running a hand over his face.

He should just stop answering. He should.

But he keeps doing it, and he doesn’t know _why_ he keeps doing it.

He just can’t seem to stop.

_And here I was thinking that we were best friends, since you don’t seem to have anyone else to bother on a Friday afternoon. My heart is breaking. **– 13:52 (sent)**_

_Haha Im sure it is. **– 13:52**_  
 _We could be tho, Im down to hang out sometime if you are. **– 13:52**_  
 _I mean I think youre pretty funny and youre still answering my texts so **– 13:52**_

“So?” Levi parrots, exasperated. “So what? That’s not a sentence, Eren.” He’s about to say as much to the kid in question when his phone vibrates and goes bright again.

 **_New Message: Eren Jaeger (Brat from Shelly’s All-Night)  
_ ** _You still there?? **– 13:53**_

“It’s been a _minute_ ,” he breathes, unsure if he should laugh or get angry.

_Holy shit, calm down. Yes, I’m still here. **– 13:53 (sent)**_

He’s still typing when his phone vibrates, jarring his finger across the screen.

_Im calm, just wanted to see you if you were down for hanging out tomorrow or something. **– 13:53**_

_Anyway, shouldn’t you ask your friend for help if they were the one dop[[ **\- 13:53 (sent)**_

_Haha what **– 13:53**_

Levi swears.

_The one doing your homework in high school, I was saying. Don’t text me when I’m texting you. **– 13:54 (sent)**_

_How am I sopposed to know if youre texting me?? **– 13:54**_  
 _And I thought your phone was on silent. **– 13:54**_  
 _And Mikasa went to a different college and I dont want to bother her, so. **– 13:54**_

“So you bother strangers instead?” he mumbles. This is exhausting.

_But anyways do you want to hang out tomorrow? **– 13:54**_

_Go make some friends your own age. **– 13:55 (sent)**_

_I have friends!! I even made one today._ **– _13:55_**  
 _His name is Armen and its like weve known each other forever, I cant believe weve never talked before **– 13:55  
** Armin* **– 13:55**_

_So ask him to help you with your homework, then. **– 13:56 (sent)**_

_I did and he said he defiantly would. **– 13:55**_

Levi flinches. “ _Def-in-ite-ly,_ sound it out in your mouth, shithead. _Christ_ , how old are you?”

_I just wanted an excuse to ask you if you wanted to hang out. **– 13:56**_  
 _Ill see you tomorrow at the black and tan at six. **– 13:56**_  
 _Google it if you dont know where it is **– 13:56**_

He isn’t.

He _can’t_ be.

_Normally you finish a question with a question mark, Eren. **– 13:56 (sent)**_

_Who says Im asking? **– 13:57**_

Levi just stares.

“You ballsy little sack of shit,” he murmurs, half-impressed, half-infuriated.

_I don’t know, but you sure as shit are asking to have your ass kicked, kid. **– 13:57 (sent)**_

_Id like to see you try, shorty **– 13:57**_

Levi sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth.

 _If you dont show Im gonna assume you chickened out **– 13:57**_  
 _Just thought you should know that **– 13:57  
** No pressure tho I mean **– 13:57**_  
 _You dont have anything to prove to a kid like me right **– 13:57**_  
 _I totaly get it if youre scared_ **– _13:58_**

It’s all he can do to stop himself from throwing his phone across the room.

“Fucking _kids_ ,” he growls.

***

He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t have come.

Eren’s right: he doesn’t have anything to prove.

He shouldn’t be here. This place is a crowded, noxious cesspit of hoodie-clad youths and he shouldn’t be here.

He’s scowling when the brat in question spots him.

The kid is _smiling_ at him.

“Hey!” he calls, breaking away from a small group of people lingering by the bar. “Levi, over here!”

“Christ, shut up, I noticed,” Levi snaps, “your voice carries like a fart in a silent room, I fucking heard you.”

Eren has the balls to laugh. He shoves something forward and Levi blocks it instinctively, almost dropping it.

“Careful! It’s already paid for, I’m not buying you another,” Eren scolds, and then hums contemplatively. “Anyway, I hope you like beer, ‘cause you’re drinking that one. Table or bar?”

Levi stares at the beer in his hand, thoroughly taken aback.

“This isn’t really what I was picturing when I was threatening to kick the shit out of you,” he mutters, and Eren laughs again.

The look Eren shoots him is one of pure animal cunning with no sign of higher brain function. “You came, didn’t you? Let’s grab a table, the bar’s too crowded.” He waves Levi towards a dingy corner. Levi makes a point of setting his glass down on a significantly less sticky or _intimate_ -looking table nearby and Eren doubles back, sitting without comment.

It does not escape Levi that Eren chooses to sit beside rather than across from him.

It’s making him a little nervous for reasons he doesn’t care to explain.

“I might still kick the shit out of you, you do realize that, right?” he threatens, but there’s no real malice behind it.

Eren’s grin is a thing of pure trust, and it makes Levi feel dirty just by looking at it. “You won’t.”

His elbow nudges Levi’s. Levi shifts his chair away surreptitiously.

“How do you figure?”

His knee bumps Levi’s. Levi turns the glass in his hand rhythmically, counting the number of movements his hand must make to complete a full rotation.

“I dunno. I just have a good feeling about you, is all, I guess.”

Levi looks at him incredulously. He doesn’t even bother to move away when Eren’s shoulder bumps his own.

“How old are you?” he demands, doing quick calculations. _‘If he’s a freshman, then he should be- but he’s buying, so he has to be at least-’_ “Twenty-one? Twenty-two?”

Eren’s eyes dart across the bar in a way that Levi really does not find promising. “I’m nineteen, I just know the bartender,” he whispers, leaning forward.

Levi groans, shifting away again. “Go hang out with somebody your own age, kid.” He stops turning and sips his beer experimentally, relieved to note that it’s not too terrible a brew. “You were talking to some people when I came in, go hang out with them.”

Eren shrugs. “I don’t even know them, I was just making conversation until you got here.”

His knee is sidling up beside Levi’s again, and Levi is starting to wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it, or if he’s just naturally inclined to spread out into all available space. His expression doesn’t seem to suggest that he’s trying to be flirtatious- it’s just his proximity that’s unsettling.

Levi tips his glass towards Eren demonstratively. “Look, all that’s telling me is that clearly you can make friends without encountering much issue. I don’t know how you are with keeping them, seeing as you’re clearly about as bright as a bag of dog shit and only marginally more pleasant to be around, but you don’t need to be hanging around with the likes of me.”

Eren’s silent and Levi should go but he’s still got three quarters of a mostly drinkable beer and he’s loathe to waste it.

“You know, it’s kind of funny,” Eren starts, smiling a little when Levi looks at him over his glass wearily, “but you haven’t actually said that you don’t want to hang out with me.”

He pauses mid-sip, considering that.

He pauses for just a little too long, and Eren’s grin grows terminal and he knows that he’s missed his window, he’s never going to be able to shake this kid now.

“Some things don’t need to be said,” he mutters, just because he feels like he should say _something_ in defense of his dignity. “Fuck it, I give up, you win, I surrender, what the hell do you want from me?”

Eren’s shoulder presses into his again as he leans in conspiratorially.

He smells like clean laundry. Levi is strangely flattered.

“Let’s watch a movie.”

***

“I’m not fucking doing it,” he protests, “I’m putting my fucking foot down on this: I will not watch The Human Centipede with you, that’s disgusting and you’re repulsive for suggesting it.”

Eren is laughing harder than anyone has ever had cause or right to laugh at Levi, and it is not particularly appreciated.

He opens his mouth and Levi interrupts him. “And _no_ , that does not mean I will watch the sequel, so don’t even ask.”

Eren howls with laughter at that, and if his pained expression is anything to go by, it’s actually starting to hurt.

Levi’s glad. He deserves every moment of pain he gets for laughing at his expense.

“You-” Eren’s voice cracks and he coughs as though that will make it less obvious. It does not. “You’re here, in my apartment, sitting on my couch, so clearly you knew this was coming,” he teases.

“I’m pretty sure most of the women on your campus might want to have a word with you about that logic,” he retorts, snarling, “I’m not fucking doing it, Eren.”

Eren laughs, raising his hands in surrender. “What do you want to watch, then? We don’t have Netflix but my roommates aren’t home on weekends so it shouldn’t take too long to download or stream something if I don’t already have it,” he adds hopefully.

Levi has a wicked idea.

“You want to watch a horror movie?” he asks. “We can watch a fucking horror movie.”

***

Eren Jaeger is a goddamn baby.

“This is so _fucked up_ ,” he moans, peering at the screen from between his fingers, knees tucked close to his chest. “What the fuck am I watching, Levi?”

“I don’t know, some hag eating babies to stay beautiful,” he drawls, pointedly casual.

Eren groans. “ _I_ _can’t look away_.”

At some point, Eren’s thigh began creeping into Levi’s space, and at some other point, Levi ceased to care. It was not an issue until he found himself shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip with a wailing teenager.

He’s not sure why he does it, but by the time he realizes that it’s probably a bad idea, it’s too late.

His arm settles around Eren’s shoulders naturally, pulling his head towards his chest, and Eren stiffens.

Levi contemplates routes of escape.

Eren relaxes, leaning into him, and one of his hands begins to wander hopefully across Levi’s middle, fingers forming bright spots of contact through his shirt where they’ve come to rest.

Levi contemplates routes of escape with more urgency.

Eren has quieted down, but Levi has more than a sneaking suspicion why.

 One of Eren’s fingers finds the gap between his belt and the hem of his shirt and Levi sucks in a sharp breath.

“I have to piss,” he announces, standing so suddenly that Eren nearly falls over.

Eren’s puzzled directions have barely warmed the air by the time Levi is locking the bathroom door behind him.

“What the _fuck_ am I doing here?” he asks his reflection.

 _‘This is insane. I met this kid yesterday. He could be a young Jeffrey Dahmer and I followed him back to his empty apartment. Even if he’s not, he’s nineteen._ ’ He leans on the counter, staring down into the sink. ‘ _What the fuck am I doing?’_

Levi’s phone vibrates in his pocket and it takes him a moment to remember why it’s not on silent.

 **_New Message: Erwin Smith_ ** _  
Some of the regulars have been asking after you. Care to tell me if I can tell them you’re still breathing? **– 20:22**_

Erwin. His old boss from when he was bartending in Chicago.

He’d always made him uneasy- he just had the worst kind of creepy smile sometimes, and it never showed up when Levi was expecting it- but the guy was one hell of a manager.

He stares blankly at it for a moment and then scrambles to reply.

_If a nineteen year old is hitting on me, what do I do? **– 20:22 (sent)**_

Erwin’s reply seems to take an eternity to come.

_Hello to you too, Levi. Care to share why you’re asking? **– 20:24**_

Levi growls, perching on the edge of the tub. _‘He needs to clean his fucking bathroom, this is disgusting.’_

_Because a fucking nineteen year old is hitting on me, why the hell else would I be asking? **– 20:24 (sent)**_

Erwin’s response doesn’t take very long at all, this time.

_I can’t make your decisions for you, Levi, but I’ll humor you. Since you’re still letting it happen, can I assume the interest is mutual? **– 20:24**_

Levi groans.

_I haven’t decided yet. **– 20:25 (sent)**_

He’s almost given up when his answer finally arrives.

 **_New Message: Erwin Smith  
_ ** _You poor son of a bitch. **– 20:28**_

Erwin does not respond to any of his other texts.

After five minutes of fruitless attempts and quiet cursing, someone knocks on the door.

“Levi?” Eren calls, “You okay in there?”

“No, I fucking fell in,” he snaps, and then rubs his hand over his face, trying to compose himself.

Eren just laughs- it’s quiet, and muffled by the door, but Levi can still hear him doing it. “You’re short enough, I guess anything’s possible,” he teases.

Levi shoves his phone in his pocket and makes a show of flushing the toilet and washing his hands for the sake of appearances.

“I _will_ kick your ass,” he tells Eren as soon as he opens the door.

Eren’s smile is disconcertingly coy.

***

Eren doesn’t even wait for an invitation this time- the moment Levi has his ass settled on the couch, Eren is lifting his arm and positioning himself underneath it.

Levi decides, a little belatedly, that he’s the type to assume that any ground given is ground forever gained, and he has to bite back a growl of frustration.

He still hasn’t decided what to do when he hits the play button, and Eren apparently takes that as a cue to test the limits of his boundaries.

His questing fingers snake under the edge of Levi’s shirt daringly, tracing circles and squares on his skin, and Levi tenses.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” he asks him quietly.

For a moment, Eren’s fingers still, but it doesn’t last.

“Nothing.” Levi can hear the smile in his voice.

He’s painfully aware of the sensation of Eren’s fingertips exploring the skin just under the line of his belt.

“That’s not my definition of nothing, Eren.”

“Do you want me to stop?” It’s hesitant, like he doesn’t want to ask because he’s afraid of being told yes.

Levi stares at the screen without really seeing it.

He doesn’t have an answer, so he just says “You’re nineteen,” instead.

Eren’s hand stills. “So?”

“So I’m seventeen years older than you,” Levi points out.

Eren shifts, but he only shifts closer, and his hand begins to rove again.

“I don’t care.”

_‘And I don’t know what to do.’_

Levi laughs sharply, starting to feel a little frantic. “You met me yesterday, kid.”

Eren turns, nearly adult features and too-focused expression suddenly too close, and murmurs, “No, I’m pretty sure we’ve met before.”

He’s not sure who started it. He wants to say Eren, because the kiss is clumsy, but the hands on his shoulders are sure and the leg that swings over his lap is purposeful.

He swallows dryness as their lips part. His hands have settled almost unconsciously on the curve of Eren’s hips. _‘What the fuck am I doing?’_

“I’m not sure what you’re hoping for, but I can guarantee you it’s a fucking terrible idea,” he tells him frankly.

Eren responds by kissing him again, more carefully, and settling his weight in Levi’s lap.

 _‘Well, I’ve done a damn fine job of giving ground,’_ Levi thinks, more than a bit puzzled with himself. _‘What the actual fuck am I doing?’_

Only when Eren’s hips start to roll enticingly against his does he shove him back.

“I have to go,” he declares, more to himself than to Eren, and he almost regrets it when Eren climbs off of him, looking a little petulant but overall, not especially surprised.

Before he quite escapes, though, Eren’s hand catches his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “Just… don’t avoid me later, okay?”

Levi goes before he can consider staying too heavily.

***

_I should’ve left after you texted me. **– 21:16 (sent)**_

**_New Message: Erwin Smith_ ** _  
You poor, sorry son of a bitch. Meredith and Gunther say hello. **– 21:21**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's highly likely I will continue to write this. Have an update mere hours after I posted this goddamn thing.

He thinks about Eren too much.

It’s been five days and he’s made a point of not texting him, but he thinks about him too much.

Eren’s weight in his lap is still a vivid sensation, and he catches himself recalling it at the worst moments.

Sometimes, when he’s falling asleep, he’ll breathe in and a part of his mind will crave the way he knows he smells, the way he tastes.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he whispers to the ceiling on the fifth day.

He’d thought that getting the apartment would help- he found it faster than he’d expected to, but the landlord had told him that the previous tenants were freshmen who’d dropped out and gone home, and having to pay the whole of the rent for the month of October was a small price to pay for a space he could clean and call his own.

It isn’t helping.

If anything, the soft moaning he can hear through the wall to his left- considerately muted, but still audible, unfortunately- is just making him wonder if he should have stayed.

He contemplates texting him.

He picks up his phone, looks at it, puts it down.

He paces from the bedroom to the kitchen and back.  

He picks up his phone again.

_Do you know how to get red wine stains out of a beige carpet? **– 10:43 (sent)**_

He stares at the message and then drops his phone with a grunt. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with me?”

It vibrates at almost the same time that his neighbour’s bedsprings start to creak in a pitch that he can hear, and he nearly misses it.

 **_New Message: Eren Jaeger (Don’t Text)  
_ ** _Are you sure theyre not blood stains **– 10:44**_

He barks with laughter despite himself.

_Blood stains are brownish. These are purple, you uncultured cur. **– 10:44 (sent)**_

_Because studying the color of carpet stains is my favorite hobby **– 10:44**  
You didnt really text me to ask about a stain **– 10:45**_

Levi swallows uncertainly.

_Is that a question or a statement? **– 10:45 (sent)**_

_Normally you finish a question with a question mark, Levi. **– 10:45**_

He swears.

He’s not sure how to respond.

_Would you look at that, he can be taught. **– 10:47 (sent)**_

_Do you wanna come over? **– 10:47**_

His fingers still on the screen.

His neighbours are getting louder.

It would be nice to get out of the apartment.

_‘This is a fucking terrible idea.’_

**_New Message: Eren Jaeger (Don’t Text)_ ** _  
Thats a question, by the way, I put a question mark on the end of it **– 10:48**_

Levi lets out a shaky laugh.

_‘Five days and I still don’t know what to do, shit.’_

_I have a better idea: let’s go throw bread crumbs at freshmen and pretend we’re feeding the birds. **– 10:49 (sent)**_

It takes Eren so long to respond that he begins to wonder if he’s finally scared him off.

 _Thats the funniest thing Ive ever fucking heard_ **– _10:52_**  
 _Youre my hero_ **_– 10:52_  
** _Lets do it **– 10:52**_

Something about his second message makes Levi’s chest ache.

***

One of the girls that Eren managed to hit seems convinced that a bird has taken a shit on her, and Levi almost feels bad.

Almost.

Eren’s gone almost purple from laughing too hard.

“This is the greatest idea anyone has ever had,” he wheezes, “you’re a genius.”

The rooftop of the building that Eren’s philosophy class is in is open to the sky, and it’s warmer than Levi expected it to be.

He considers removing his jacket and then thinks better of it.

He hasn’t been missing the way Eren’s been looking at him when he thinks he isn’t paying attention.

Eren balls up and pitches another chunk of bread over the railing with a practiced grace that makes Levi wonder about his athletic background.

It bounces off the shoulder of a boy wearing a hoodie that has something written across the chest, and he looks up at them.

When he elbows one of his companions and gestures towards the rooftop, Levi realizes that they’re all wearing the same hoodie.

“Uh-oh,” Eren mutters, “this is probably a good time to find something else to do.”

Levi’s somewhat inclined to agree.

***

This is exactly where he was trying not to end up.

And yet, here he is.

Eren’s washing dishes. There’s water boiling in a pot on the stove- _‘Goddamn students never own a damn kettle but they always have tea they don’t remember buying’_ \- and the back of Eren’s neck is smooth and tanned and inviting.

Levi hunches over the table, disgruntled.

“Are you sure you don’t want-”

“I’ve got it,” Eren dismisses airily, waving a hand and flicking soap and water all over the floor.

Levi fidgets, trying not to map the topography of Eren’s back with his eyes.

“I thought your roommates were only gone on weekends?” he asks testily.

Eren laughs.

“I said they’re not around on weekends, not that they’re only gone on weekends,” he corrects, grinning over his shoulder in a way that makes Levi suspect the misunderstanding was intentional. “They’re out.”

Levi’s not sure how to feel about that.

“You look nervous.”

He tenses. “You look stupid, but you don’t see me commenting on that, do you?”

Eren laughs again.

“Actually, you bring that up pretty often, not gonna lie.”

***

His tea is hot and it doesn’t taste terrible so Eren is forgiven, at least for now.

Even if Eren is rapidly encroaching on his personal space again.

“Why are you so interested in me?” Levi asks, trying to distract himself from the pressure of Eren’s thigh against his own.

“You’re interesting.”

He snorts. “You barely know me, kid.”

Eren’s crept close enough that Levi can smell him. “Maybe. I’d like to, though.”

Levi sighs, exasperated. “ _Why?_ ”

“Like I said: you’re interesting.”

The tea burns his tongue and he’s almost glad for it. “I don’t think getting to know someone is something you do with your dick, Eren.”

Eren backs off. Levi has mixed feelings about that.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and a look of familiar confusion and frustration crosses his features. “I just-” He scrubs a hand through his hair sheepishly. “I don’t know, I just really want to touch you for some reason. I’m not usually like this with people, I swear.”

Levi believes him, and he finds that faith disconcerting.

“It doesn’t bother me,” he admits. _‘Though it should, and I don’t know why it doesn’t.’_

Eren’s tongue darts out over his lips nervously.

“Can I kiss you?”

Levi has to take a deep breath before he can answer that reliably.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You don’t think a lot of things are a good idea,” Eren gripes, but he doesn’t move any closer, so Levi considers it a win.

The silence stretches on for longer than is strictly comfortable.

“So,” Eren starts, “what do you do?”

Levi stares at him.

“I clean, mostly.”

***

This is exactly what he was trying not to end up doing where he was trying not to end up.

Eren, as it turns out, is a criminology major on paper who has no idea what he’s doing with his life in reality.

His parents are divorced, he doesn’t speak to his father, his best friend- _‘My Mikasa,’_ Levi thinks drily- is a professional fighter training to box on an Olympic level, and he works at a café on campus twice a week to slow his inevitable descent in crippling debt.

He’s extremely sexual.

He’s also extremely tempting.

Levi has no idea what movie they’re watching anymore.

They put it on for background noise, mostly, and that’s exactly what it’s become.

Eren’s mouth has been wandering up his throat for the past ten minutes, his fingertips teasing lightly under the band of Levi’s underwear, and Levi has no idea what genre this movie is even supposed to be.

He hisses in a breath when Eren’s fingers brush a little too far under. “Eren,” he warns.

Eren hums inquisitively against his jaw.

The door to the apartment opens behind them and Eren’s hand darts out of Levi’s pants so fast that his underwear snap against his skin.

Levi hears the roommate pause.

“You didn’t tell me you had company over, Eren.” It’s a woman’s voice. She sounds amused.

“Hey, Madeline,” he mumbles in Levi’s collarbone. “You’re, uh, home early.”

She laughs at that, passing the couch to wander into the kitchen. “If you’re really concerned about that, maybe you should take your friend to your room. We all use that couch, Eren- be considerate.”

Levi feels like he’s going to die. _‘I’m too fucking old for this shit.’_

Eren’s peeking up at him expectantly.

“No,” he mouths, and Eren’s face falls into a dejected sulk. “That? A fucking bad idea.”

Eren worms up his side and brings his mouth to Levi’s ear.

“You think coming here at all was a bad idea but you still did it, didn’t you?” he whispers.

Levi leans away from his hissing breaths.

Somebody is being eaten by insects on the television screen. _‘What the fuck are we watching?’_

“You do have a point,” he admits.

***

It takes Eren all of twenty minutes to give up any pretense of not attempting to get into his pants and Levi is honestly surprised by his patience.

He’s a sloppy kisser, but he’s learning, and he doesn’t protest beyond a pained groan when Levi tells him that their pants are staying on.

It does not, however, stop him from rutting against Levi _through_ his jeans, and his eagerness becomes such an issue that Levi ends up shoving him onto his back for more control.

“Calm the fuck down, Jesus,” he pants, a hand pressed firmly against Eren’s chest. “What are you, a fucking animal?”

Eren laughs an apology, raising his hands defensively. “Sorry, I-” His heart is beating fast under Levi’s palm. “I guess I just keep thinking you’ll disappear on me again.”

Levi eyes him incredulously. “If you keep pulling this shit, maybe,” he comments drily. “You’re so fidgety it makes me think you need to take a dump.”

Eren laughs again, hand sliding up Levi’s arm appreciatively.

He glances at the clock.

It’s getting late.

“I should go,” he murmurs, and Eren’s fingers tighten convulsively on his bicep.

“You could stay here,” he says hopefully, “we don’t even have to do anything.”

“I don’t even have a damn toothbrush.”

“You could use mine,” Eren offers.

Levi grimaces.

“Maybe next time, kid,” he says, and then slaps himself internally, because Eren’s face lights up in a way that tells him beyond any reasonable doubt that he’s going to hold him to that- both the next time and the staying for the night.

***

It only takes another week for Levi to secure employment.

Working cleaning the hotel he was staying in two weeks before seems like a cosmic joke at first, but by his third shift, he starts to take a certain twisted pride in setting a higher standard than anyone else.

By day six, he’s actively annoyed when his phone vibrates in his pocket, and he whips off his gloves to check it with no shortage of irritation.

 **_New Message: Eren Jaeger  
_ ** _hey **– 17:54  
** what are you doing right now **– 17:54**_

Levi can feel his eyebrows rising.

_Working. **– 17:54 (sent)**_

His phone vibrates as soon as he puts it in his pocket, and doesn’t stop until he’s done the room.

 **_New Message: Eren Jaeger_ **  
_shit rly_ **_– 17:54_  
** _are you sure **– 17:54**_

“Am I sure I’m working?” Levi asks the empty room, baffled. “What kind of fucking question is that?”

Scrolling down through Eren’s messages offers some enlightenment.

 _i wish you werent_ **– _17:55_**  
 _you should come over after work **– 17:55**_  
 _have a drink with me **– 17:55**_

“You are not fucking drunk texting me, hell no,” Levi mutters.

He absolutely is.

 _i still havent figured out where i know you from_ **– _17:55_**  
 _its been driving me nuts **– 17:56**_  
 _so have you but what else is new **– 17:56**_  
 _hurry up and text me back you dick_ _– **17:56**_  
 _wait youre working arent you_ **_– 17:57_  
** _shit **– 17:57**_

He debates whether or not to leave the kid to stew in his own hormonal misery.

_I’m off work in a couple of minutes. **– 17:58 (sent)**_

Eren’s response is amusingly prompt.

_youre coming over after right **– 17:58**_

Levi snorts.

_Who says? **– 17:59 (sent)**_

_i do **– 17:59**_

_‘This sounds,’_ he thinks, _‘like an incredibly bad idea.’_

_You do know I don’t believe for a second that you’re not going to try to get on my dick if I do, right? **– 18:00 (sent)**_

Eren’s response actually makes him laugh out loud.

 _i thought we could clean some stains out of carpets **– 18:00**_  
 _youre into that right_ **_– 18:00_  
** _cause i could actually use that advice about red wine stains right about now **– 18:01**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, that escalated quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I won't give into the urge to write porn.
> 
> Today is not that day.

“What did you _do?_ ” he demands, so aghast that’s he almost laughing. “Did you spill an entire bottle?”

Eren looks like he’s considering the logistics of going into a coma to escape responsibility. “Please, _please_ , Levi, my roommates are gonna kill me as soon as they get back,” he begs, “I don’t know what to do, you have to help me.”

Levi points a stern finger at him. “I don’t _have_ to do shit.” Eren looks like he might cry. “ _But_ ,” he interrupts, “do you have any white vinegar?”

***

Levi rocks back on his heels with a sigh, eying the- admittedly, now significantly improved- pinkish patch of carpet by the sofa.

“That’s as good as it’s getting, Eren,” he tells him seriously. “It would’ve been better if you’d salted it right away, but,” he gestures sharply, “this is what you gave me to work with, so this is what you get.”

Eren’s gratitude is a little overwhelming. “No, thank you, thank you so much, Levi, I owe you so bad,” he stammers, and then looks down at the patch with a small grimace. “It’s not… _that_ noticeable anymore.”

Levi snorts. “Comparatively, no, it’s not noticeable at all. But it’s still visible,” he murmurs, and Eren groans.

“Maybe we could cover it with a rug or-”

Levi cuts him off with a wave. “What’s all this _we_ shit, kid?” Eren looks crestfallen and Levi sighs. “Anyway, a new rug is a dead giveaway- the first thing your roommates will do is look under it. I have a better idea.”

He pulls the couch sideways until it is half-eclipsing the stain before adjusting the standing lamp in the corner.

Eren is staring at him like he’s a goddamn wizard.

“It’s gone,” he breathes, visibly astounded.

Levi can’t help it: he laughs.

“It’s not gone, it’s just strategically hidden,” he drawls. “As long as nobody moves the couch, you’re safe.” He eyes Eren appraisingly. “Well, I guess you could claim you don’t know how it got there, but somehow I suspect you’re a pretty piss-poor liar.”

He takes Eren’s sheepish grin as implicit confirmation.

“Alright, I should go,” Levi mutters after a moment, holding his shirt away from his chest. “I came here straight from work- I need to shower and change.”

Eren’s hopeful expression is back.

“No,” he tells him firmly, like he’s trying to discipline a misbehaving dog, but Eren looks unswayed.

“You could use my shower,” Eren coaxes.

Levi fixes him with his best unimpressed look. He just grins.

“And I could lend you some of my clothes,” he continues, that familiar expression of sharp focus emerging again. “Do you really want to walk home like that?”

“I drove,” Levi supplies shortly, but doesn’t move to leave.

Eren’s eyes take on a look of odd canniness that Levi isn’t sure he likes. “Well, if you’re fine with messing up the inside of your car,” he says airily, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, “I’m not going to stop you.”

Levi pauses.

_‘Son of a bitch.’_

***

There’s a fresh toothbrush, still in its package, in Eren’s bathroom.

Levi looks at it for a while.

He presents it quite pointedly to Eren upon exiting the bathroom.

Eren smiles in a way that would be apologetic if it wasn’t so damn smug.

“Maybe this time?” he asks, a little shy, a lot hopeful.

Levi raises his eyebrows.

“You may have shit for brains,” he muses, “but you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

Eren seems to be eying him appreciatively instead of listening. “You look good in my clothes.”

Levi narrows his eyes at him.

He’s a compact man, densely muscled without being stocky, but he’s not especially small.

And yet Eren’s clothes are enormous on him.

 Eren, who is much taller but whose shoulders and chest only look to be marginally broader than his own.

“Do you usually make a habit of wearing clothes that don’t fit or are you just trying to piss me off?” he asks sharply, yanking up his slipping pants and shoving back his sleeves in irritation.

Eren grins sheepishly, scratching at his throat. “No, uh,” he fumbles, “those are the only things I had that I thought might be the right length.” He’s starting to go a little pink around the ears. “I liked baggy clothes in middle school.”

Levi raises his eyebrows even higher. “You still have shit you wore in middle school?” he asks disbelievingly, and then pauses. “I’m _wearing_ clothes you wore when you were, what, thirteen? Wait, does that include the underwear?”

Eren just shrugs noncommittally and doesn’t answer.

“So are you staying with me tonight or what? There are laundry machines downstairs, I’ll even wash your clothes for you if you do.”

Levi thinks this kid needs to work on his phrasing.

_‘And his tact, and that’s a hell of a thing, coming from me.’_

***

He’s not sure why he agrees to stay in the first place, and he’s really not sure why he agrees to stay in Eren’s bed with him.

It’s a recipe for disaster and he knows it.

Eren’s good to his word, at first- he keeps his hands mostly to himself for the duration of the evening, only sneaking in a few glancing touches as Levi is brushing his teeth and combing tangles out of his drying hair with his fingers- but the moment Levi slides into bed beside him, phone in hand, it becomes obvious that he’s having difficulty being good.

He’s fidgeting like a dog left alone with a cooling ham, eyes longing but muscles jumpy with fear of retribution.

Levi sighs internally.

_If anyone asks about me again, you can tell them that I’m alive but have lost my mind completely. **– 23:14 (sent)**_

Erwin’s reply is tellingly prompt. Levi scowls. _‘He’s been ignoring my messages.’_

_I’ve already told them that you’re discovering your irresistibility to women half your age. I assume this is related? **– 23:14**_

He glances at Eren surreptitiously, a little amused. Eren is playing a game on his phone and at first, Levi thinks his furrowed eyebrows and gnawed lip are a sign of focus, but the second Eren notices him looking, his fingers stumble and he fails spectacularly.

Levi laughs through his nose, angling his screen away from Eren’s wandering eyes.

_Not women. **– 23:15 (sent)**_

“What’re you doing?”

He squints at Eren, a bit startled by the sudden break in the silence. “Texting.”

As if on cue, his screen goes dark for a split second before lighting up again, vibrating in Levi’s palm with a numbing hum.

 **_New Message: Erwin Smith_ ** _  
Now you have my attention. This is new. **– 23:15**_

He snorts. _‘I don’t know what I expected.’_

“Who’re you texting?”

Eren’s creeping closer. Levi quirks an eyebrow at him. “Why do you care?” The words come out more defensive-sounding than he intends them to, and Eren frowns.

_I don’t think we were ever close enough for you to say that so confidently, shithead. **– 23:16 (sent)**_

“Just curious. Trying to make conversation, you know?”

Eren’s calf is sliding against his experimentally.

_You lived in my spare room for two years, Levi. **– 23:16**_   
_You might not have brought people home often, but I assure you, I knew when you did. **– 23:16**_   
_And I know you well enough to say with confidence that you don’t let strangers take you home with them. **– 23:17**_

Levi snorts again. “An old co-worker. He runs a bar I used to work in,” he answers belatedly, kicking Eren in the ankle for his trouble.

_Until a few weeks ago, I would’ve agreed with you. **– 23:17 (sent)**_

“You used to work in a bar?” Eren asks curiously, leg sneaking back, undiscouraged, into Levi’s space.

Levi shoots him a withering look but doesn’t bother to kick him again. “In Chicago. Little place on the outskirts called _The Ave Maria_. Told me he won the rights to it in a poker game. Bet his house against the table, came out of it with a dive bar and a two-year-old Corvette. He’s changed the name since, now it’s _The One-Armed Soldier_ because he thought that would have more appeal to the unwashed masses or something, and I guess it must, because last I heard, he’s opened a couple of other locations.” Eren is staring at him, spellbound by all appearances. Levi glances at his phone. His inattention has lost him whatever game he was playing. “I was a bartender,” he adds lamely, peculiarly aware of how much he’s been talking.

 “See, this is what I mean,” Eren blurts out, “that? Interesting. You’re really interesting, Levi.”

He grunts and turns away, a little disconcerted by the praise. There’s a message waiting for him.

 **_New Message: Erwin Smith_ ** _  
This gets more interesting by the minute. I’m listening. **– 23:17**_

“Interesting must be the word of the day for idiots,” he mutters, and Eren scoots closer, looking inquisitive.

Levi shoves him back with an elbow.

_I get into town at a quarter to one in the goddamn morning and spend the next half hour driving around, trying to find the least disgusting hotel in the city. By two, I’m sitting in this greasy dump of a twenty-four hour diner, and there’s this fucking kid sitting at a table diagonal from me who looks like he’s been reading the same page of his textbook for the last hour. **– 23:21 (sent)**_

One of Eren’s hands has fallen to the bed beside him, and Levi has not failed to notice the way it’s edging ever closer.

_I almost thought you weren’t going to give me the satisfaction of appeasing my curiosity. **– 23:21**  
Did you offer to help him with his homework like the kind soul you are? **– 23:21**_

Eren’s pinky finger is rubbing investigative lines against his side. Eren himself is doing a very poor job of pretending to be engrossed in his clumsy one-handed gameplay.

_You’re a fucking comedian. **– 23:22**  
No, I was looking at him, thinking he looked familiar, and he looked up at me like he was thinking the same thing. **– 23:23 (sent)**_

_Cute. **– 23:23**_

Eren’s fingers have begun carefully pulling up the hem of his shirt. Levi shoots him a warning look, but his eyes are fixed on the screen of his phone in an expression of pure concentration.

_Less than a minute later, he just slides into my booth uninvited and asks me if I’m in one of his college classes. **-23:24 (sent)**_

_Your youthful looks at work once again, I presume? **– 23:24**_

Eren begins teasing the bare skin above his left hip with light touches. He sucks in a sharp breath, debating how far he’s willing to let this go. _‘Farther than it should, probably.’_

He ignores Erwin’s comment.

_To be specific, it’s the class he’s supposed to be attending less than seven hours in the future. **– 23:24 (sent)**_

_Essay or midterm? **– 23:24**_

Eren scoots sideways, sliding his palm across Levi’s lower stomach, pushing his shirt up higher.

_Neither. He just couldn’t sleep, and he ended skipping the class anyway. **– 23:25 (sent)**_

_Oh, so he’s a truant. I didn’t know that was your type, Levi. I’m learning a lot about you today. **– 23:25**_

Eren has abandoned his phone to roll onto his side. A second hand joins the first. “Is this okay?” he whispers cautiously.

“You think I’d let you do it if it wasn’t?” Levi mutters back. _‘What am I doing?’_

_Fuck off. Anyway, he badgered me to give him my phone number, texted me a bunch of stupid shit as an excuse to ask me to have a drink with him, picked a fight with me to ensure I’d show up and then handed me a beer when I got there like we were best fucking friends. **– 23:26 (sent)**_

_You said he was nineteen. A truant and a lawbreaker, then? **– 23:26**  
I’m surprised at the company you’re keeping these days. **– 23:27**_

Eren’s mouth is warm on his neck. He lets out a shuddering sigh, trying not to get distracted.

_I didn’t know how old he was until after I got there. **– 23:27**_   
_Afterwards, he dragged me to his apartment in an attempt to get me to watch The Human Centipede, and tried to jump on my dick halfway through the movie we were watching instead. That happened just after I texted you. **– 23:28 (sent)**_

Eren hands are starting to wander into dangerous territory. “Levi,” he murmurs coaxingly.

Levi ignores him as best he can.

_I must say, the boy’s got serious balls. You’re not exactly the easiest person to approach. **– 23:28**_

_No fucking joke. I went to get the fuck out of there and he grabbed me and asked me not to avoid him later. **– 23:29 (sent)**_

_I’m impressed. And evidently you didn’t, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. **– 23:29**  
Where are you right now? **– 23:29**_

His fingers twitch convulsively as Eren’s teeth settle on the skin below his ear. “Levi,” he murmurs again, this time more insistently.

Levi hesitates.

_In his apartment. **– 23:30 (sent)**_

_I see. Where in his apartment? **– 23:30**_

Eren nips lightly at the shell of his ear and he bites back a groan.

_In his bedroom. **– 23:30 (sent)**_

“Levi,” Eren hisses. He’s starting to sound a little exasperated.

_You deserve everything you get, Levi. Why are you texting me when you’ve clearly already made up your mind? **– 23:31**_

He barely has the chance to read Erwin’s message before his phone is ripped out from under his fingers.

Eren is scrolling through his conversation appraisingly, eyes intent.

He scrambles for it. “Give that back, you little shit,” he gripes, jabbing Eren sharply in the side.

Eren lets out a pained _oof_ but doesn’t relent. “Yeah, Levi, why are you texting this guy when you’ve clearly already made up your mind?” he parrots, and Levi struggles with him, hooking a foot behind one of his thighs and yanking, forcing Eren down from his knees to his ass before grabbing at his wrists.

Eren laughs. “I knew you recognized me too!” he crows triumphantly, a little breathless as Levi wrestles him to the bed. His phone skids out of Eren’s hand, sliding across the sheets towards the edge and clattering to the carpet below.

Eren’s smile is beatific. “I _knew_ it,” he says again, cheeks flushed with effort but face unrepentant.

His wrists are warm in Levi’s palms, and he’s not fighting his grip on them, instead lying panting and unresisting on his back below him.

Levi swallows against dryness. “So? I don’t know where I know you from, either,” he grumbles, frustrated.

Eren is starting to look very interested.

Eren is starting to look very _interesting_.

 “You going to pin me down all night?” he asks, smile fading into something a little more suggestive. “Not that I mind either way, I just wanna know so I don’t get my hopes up.”

Levi swallows again. “I didn’t ask what you were into, you fucking brat.”

When he releases Eren’s wrists, the first thing he does is grab the front of Levi’s shirt and pull him down into a clumsy, poorly aimed kiss.

It shouldn’t be enough, but it is.

Eren’s hands are wandering from the shaved fuzz above the nape of his neck to the muscles of his back, kneading and caressing aimlessly, and his mouth is wet and soft and he’s not an especially skilled kisser but Levi doesn’t care nearly as much as he knows he probably should.

He can feel a very definite hardness pressing against his thigh, and against all better judgement, he leans his weight against it, working his leg rhythmically between Eren’s.

The moan that escapes Eren is much too loud, and Levi claps a hand over his mouth frantically.

“Christ,” he grunts, “keep it down, you’re going to wake up the whole goddamn building. And what happened to _‘we don’t even have to do anything’_?”

Eren is dishevelled in the worst way.

“This is a student town, nobody’s sleeping anyway,” he pants, hips working against Levi’s thigh in little rutting motions. “And we don’t have to doesn’t mean we can’t,” he adds, eyelids heavy.

Levi swears, rolling off of him and scrubbing his hands over his face. “What the fuck am I doing? You’re _nineteen_.”

He hears rather than sees Eren crawling towards him on his hands and knees.

“I’m completely legal,” he murmurs, shoving Levi’s shirt up and pressing his mouth against one side of the sharp ‘v’ of muscle disappearing into his pants. “It’s not a big deal.”

Levi looks down at him warily as he fiddles with the button on his jeans. “What exactly do you think you’re doing down there, kid?”

Eren shoots him an impatient look. “I’m not a kid,” he protests. Levi strangles a moan as he mouths him through his underwear. “And what the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”

 _‘This is, without a doubt,’_ Levi thinks distantly, _‘the stupidest thing I have ever fucking done.’_

“It looks like you’re trying to blow me through my underwear,” he snipes, and Eren’s laughter is a hot gust of sensation against his fast-stiffening erection.

“Are you okay with that?” Eren asks cautiously, fingers hesitating on the worn elastic band of Levi’s borrowed boxers.

He laughs shakily. _‘It’s a damn good thing I don’t believe in hell.’_

“Not the part where you do it through a pair of underwear you wore when you were fucking fourteen,” he mutters, and Eren grins at him.

“These are pretty new, I only got them last year or something,” he retorts pointlessly before pulling the boxers in question down.

It’s immediately evident that the kid has very little experience sucking dick- possibly none at all- but he goes about it with such concentration and determination that it almost doesn’t matter.

He starts out with his hands braced on Levi’s hips, mouth loose but tongue active, and the combination makes Levi’s dick pop out and hit him in the chin.

Levi’s torn between laughing and groaning at his inexperience.

“Generally speaking, you have to actually _suck_ ,” he offers drily, burying a hand in Eren’s hair as he tries again, and this time, his efforts are met with more success.

Levi can hear his phone vibrating on the floor beside the bed.

He is somewhat too distracted to give a shit.

He feels the tip of his dick hit the back of Eren’s throat at the same moment that Eren gags and pulls off, coughing, and he pats him awkwardly, stroking himself with his other hand, too desperate for stimulation to resist. He tries to say something reassuring, but what comes out is “Don’t throw up on my cock, Eren,” and he closes his eyes, trying to find the energy to feel embarrassed.

Eren pries him free of his grip, sinking his mouth down again, and Levi tenses when he feels resistance, preparing for the worst.

When he passes that resistance, his eyes shoot open, and he props himself up on an elbow to look.

Eren’s expression is very clearly one of stubborn resolve, and the tears gathering in his eyes don’t lessen how angry it makes him look.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” Levi groans, brushing Eren’s hair out of his face for a better look. “Holy shit, Eren, what the _fuck_.”

Eren buoys up and off with a gasp and looks at him with a slightly desperate expression. “What?” His voice sounds rough and strained. “Did I fuck up?”

Levi barks incredulously. “ _No_ , Jesus Christ, no, you did not fuck up,” he laughs, “Eren, you don’t have to do that, but you really, _really_ did not fuck up.”

Eren looks confused but reassured.

“Here,” Levi soothes, grabbing Eren’s hand and pulling it towards the base of his dick, “if you’re that fucking determined to get everything at once, you can use your hand to get what your mouth can’t, you know that, right?” He pauses uncertainly. “Have you never gotten a blowjob before?”

Eren works his hand up Levi’s shaft with an expression of wonder like he hadn’t considered it a possibility. “Yeah, but I wasn’t really paying attention to technique, it just felt good,” he pants, and then grins breathlessly. “But if saying no means you’re offering, then no, I’ve never gotten a blowjob.”

Levi snorts and smacks him lightly upside the head. “You’re a fucking turd, you know that?”

Eren just laughs, tongue darting out over the head of the dick in his hand experimentally before taking it in.

Levi groans, fingers twisted in his hair, carefully guiding his pace.

“Fuck, you’re a fast learner,” he growls. Eren hums and the sensation makes his breath come short.

He feels it coming, building heavy and tight below his gut.

“Eren,” he gasps, “Eren, get off.”

Eren does not get off, eyes trained on Levi’s face with a look of deep focus, and Levi knows he looks like a fucking mess but he can’t fight the face he makes when he comes.

If Levi wasn’t caught in the throes of an orgasm, Eren’s look of surprise would probably be comical, but as it is, he splutters and reels backwards, covering his mouth, and Levi grabs his dick with a half-formed curse, stroking himself the rest of the way through.

“That tastes fucking nasty, how do people do that?” Eren asks after he’s done catching his breath, scrubbing at his lips with the back of his hand and grimacing.

Levi laughs hazily, hand still wrapped loosely around his softening erection. “I did tell you to get off,” he mumbles vaguely, eyes closed. “And not everybody’s does- I just eat a lot of shitty food.” He pulls up the corner of his mouth in a lazy smile. “I didn’t expect to be getting blown anytime soon, so you’ll have to forgive me for that.”

As the high of his orgasm starts to fade, he looks down at himself in disgust. “Do you have anything I can clean myself off with?”

Eren hands him a sock.

Levi scowls at him and then stops.

Eren is stroking himself, hand disappearing into the recesses of his bed pants, his lower lip tucked between his teeth and his gaze heavy. “You look really hot when you’re getting off, I’m not gonna lie to you,” he murmurs, half-moaning. “Like… really hot.”

If he’s a bit flustered by that sentiment, he does his best to hide it. He wipes himself off as best he can with the sock before balling it up and pitching it towards what he hopes is the laundry bin.

“Oi,” he grouses, slipping his hand into Eren’s pants, “have a little faith, I’m not going to leave you to take care of yourself after you fucking deep throated me like a champion, what do you take me for?”

Eren looks surprised and then so ecstatic that Levi’s actually a little embarrassed. “I’m not going to blow you, don’t get too excited,” he mumbles.

Eren leans in for a kiss and Levi dodges with a grimace. Eren looks disappointed until he presses his lips to the skin under his jaw, wrist working rhythmically between them.

Eren’s moans build in volume just as quickly as Levi had feared they would.

“Jesus, shut up,” he hisses, almost considering braving the nastiness of kissing him to muffle his pornographically loud moans. “I don’t even want to know what you’re like during sex if you’re this loud when you’re getting a handjob.”

He squeezes lightly and Eren breaks off into a gasp, fingers knotted tightly in Levi’s hair. “I want,” he pants desperately, “to know what you sound like, though.”

Levi laughs shortly as Eren tenses and begins to ejaculate over his hand, hiking up his pants to contain the mess.

“Maybe next time, kid,” he murmurs, and _this_ time, he knows perfectly well what he’s promising.

Later, when he checks his messages, he’ll see the following message following a half dozen others:

 **_New Message: Erwin Smith_ ** _  
Judging by how long it’s taken you to respond to this, I’m going to assume you’re in good hands. **– 23:50**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short update today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short because I have to work early tomorrow but I wanted to post something. My bad!

Levi wakes up the next morning thinking, _‘What the fuck did I do?’_

And the answer is sprawled half-naked and smiling in its sleep beside him.

He covers his face with a groan.

 _‘I said I wouldn’t and then I did,’_ he muses fatalistically.

Eren is twitching, eyes darting back and forth under his eyelids, and his lips are curling up at the corners.

“You look like you’re having a good dream,” Levi tells him irritably.

“Yeah,” he murmurs back.

To his credit, he doesn’t jump- he just sort of twitches convulsively with surprise before scowling.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you talk in your sleep, too, you loudmouthed little shit,” he gripes, and Eren laughs distantly, smiling more widely.

“You said that the first time, too,” he mumbles, so quietly that Levi doesn’t quite understand at first.

When he does, a chill runs down his spine and the hair on his arms stands up, and he doesn’t quite know why.

What he does know is that he suddenly doesn’t want to be there when Eren wakes up.

He sees Eren start to frown when he pulls on his pants.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs unhappily, “don’t go.”

Levi pauses, looking down at him before shrugging on his shirt.

“Sorry, kid.”

***

 **_New Message: Erwin Smith_ ** _  
So what I’ve come to understand is this: – **09:43**_ **  
**_You were given a blowjob by an energetic, eager-to-please nineteen year old who wants nothing more than to be your sexual partner. **– 09:43**_  
 _And you are complaining about that._ **– 09:44**

Levi groans, sagging back in his chair. “You don’t fucking get it, Erwin,” he mutters to no one in particular.

_Levi, I am not even attracted to men and I envy you your problems. **– 09:44**_

_Good to know. Remind me never to introduce you. **– 09:45 (sent)**_

He realizes his error mere seconds after pressing send.

_That’s an interesting sentiment coming from someone who wants nothing to do with their admirer. **– 09:45**_

He grimaces. _‘I can’t win.’_

_I didn’t say I wanted nothing to do with him. **– 09:46**_   
_I’ve just never been pursued so insistently before. **– 09:46**_   
_There must be something wrong with him. **– 09:47 (sent)**_

Erwin’s response is as prompt as any well-placed dig coming from him ever is.

_Levi, as far I can tell, the only thing wrong with him is his taste in men. **– 09:47**_

***

This time, Eren doesn’t wait for him to text first.

**_New Message: Eren Jaeger_ **   
_what did i do? **– 12:26**_

Levi sighs.

_You didn’t do anything. **– 12:26 (sent)**_

_last time i checked, its not a good sign when somebodys gone before you wake up **– 12:26**_

He’s starting to feel distinctly guilty and he doesn’t like it.

_I didn’t exactly promise to stay for breakfast, kid. **– 12:27 (sent)**_

It takes a moment longer for Eren to respond than he usually does.

_so meet me for lunch, then **– 12:28**_

“Why?” he whispers, “Why do you want me around so fucking badly?”

_Any particular reason? **– 12:28 (sent)**_

_do you want the truth or **– 12:28**_

He steels himself, tensing.

_I’d prefer the truth. **– 12:29 (sent)**_

Eren’s response leaves him sputtering.

It is, somehow, not what he expected.

_ive never had sushi. **– 12:29**_   
_and i want another crack at getting into your pants **– 12:29**_   
_thats the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth **– 12:30**_

He runs a hand through his hair, disbelieving.

_Let me get this straight: you want to get lunch because you’ve never had sushi and you’re after my dick? **– 12:30 (sent)**_

_aye aye captain **– 12:30**_

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “What the fuck am I doing?”

_Where did you have in mind? **– 12:31 (sent)**_

***

Eren, it turns out, will eat anything without a single feeling of uncertainty.

“Why the hell did you need me to come with you if you can order at random off of the menu and not have to worry, you slavering dog?” Levi asks without any real irritation, primly wiping his fingers on his napkin.

Eren’s hands are so sticky-looking that Levi can almost feel the stickiness on his own. “Because of that second part,” he answers promptly without hesitating. “Got you out here, didn’t it?”

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose. “I still don’t understand _why_.”

Eren shrugs. “I told you: you’re interesting and I like you,” he says candidly, “and you’re pretty hot, not gonna lie.”

“For a short guy,” Levi supplies drily, and Eren looks, to his credit, genuinely confused.

“No, just in general,” he corrects, a sushi roll slipping from between his chopsticks. “Fuck, not again.”

“Are you sure don’t want to ask for a fork?”

Eren looks offended. “I _will_ get the hang of these, don’t talk down to me,” he mutters defensively, and Levi makes a point of demonstrating the ease with which he can perform the same task and not fuck up tragically.

Eren sinks down in his chair. “…Eventually, I mean.”

He snorts quietly. “I lived in Hokkaido for six months, don’t sweat it too much.”

Eren looks fascinated. “Is there anywhere you _haven’t_ lived?”

He actually has to pause and think about that.

“Alaska. I’ve never lived in Alaska.”

“So you’ve seen the ocean?”

He looks up from his tea, surprised. “Yes?” In his confusion, the word comes out like sounding like a question. “Yes,” he repeats, “of course I’ve seen the ocean.”

Eren looks wistful and he pauses.

“Have you never seen the ocean?”

Eren shrugs, visibly a little embarrassed. “No. Not since I was really little, anyway,” he mumbles, “I’ve always wanted to, though.”

He’s thoroughly taken aback. “I thought you lived in Tallahassee?”

Eren looks a little pleased at his memory. “When I was like… four, yeah.”

He snorts again. “And you expected me to recognize you from what you looked like as a four year old?” he asks drily.

“I was just making conversation.”

Levi laughs a little. “So why haven’t you gone to see the ocean yet?”

“I don’t really want to go alone,” Eren admits. “Why don’t you ever stay in one place for very long? Where do you come from?”

Levi is mid-way through wiping his mouth when Eren asks, and he pauses to contemplate that. “My family was military,” he sighs, “so I don’t really come from anywhere.”

“What happened to them?”

He drops his napkin on his plate, appetite gone. “No fucking clue. We don’t speak. Nosy, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you talk to your family?”

He levels a stare at him. “Eren, I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Eren looks a little nonplussed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

The silence stretches on between them as Levi watches their server smiling politely at the jokes of another table.

“Do you ever feel like you need to do something?” Eren asks suddenly. “Like you have to accomplish something big and you don’t know what?”

Levi blinks, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Not really,” he mutters, “if anything, I feel like I’ve already done too much, and the universe needs to stop fucking asking me to do things.”

***

His reluctance to follow Eren home has largely become a pretense, but this time, he waves off Eren’s insistence with a sigh.

“You’re fucking loud, Eren,” he says bluntly, “I have known screamers capable of being quieter than you.” Eren looks a little embarrassed at that, hissing at him to keep his voice down because they’re still in public. “And see, you have roommates- I just have neighbours, and I don’t really give a shit what my neighbours think of me.”

“It’s Saturday, my roommates aren’t even-” Eren starts protesting, and then stops, mouth starting to curl up in a little smile. “Are you inviting me back to your place, Levi?”

Levi stares blankly at him. “No, I thought we could fuck in a public park,” he snaps, “Christ.”

Eren doesn’t stop smiling even after Levi gives him a tongue-lashing for being an “overeager throwback to the shittiest era of man” and, what’s worse, he spots at least two strangers on the street smiling reflexively when they see his beaming face.

 _‘If only you knew why,’_ he thinks wryly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another not super long chapter, I'm sorry. Some backstory on Levi, mostly.

Eren steps into his apartment with an expression of awe.

“This is really nice,” he comments, and then looks a little confused. “It seems kind of empty, though.”

Levi shrugs. “I don’t stay places long, so I don’t really own much,” he states, nodding towards his sparse furnishings, adding in a muttered, “And it’s not really that nice, it’s just clean.”

Eren is looking at him, and he feels like he has to say something specific, but he doesn’t know what.

“It’s not terrible,” he allows, “I moved into a basement apartment once and found out that they’d painted over the mold growing on the bathroom ceiling. I skipped my lease after three days.”

Eren’s mouth has rounded into a little ‘o’ of shock. “You can’t do that,” he protests, face disapproving. “That can make it harder to find other places to live, you know- they’ll call.” He pauses. “My mom told me that when I moved out, but maybe she was just trying to make sure I wasn’t going to fuck around because she co-signed for me.”

Levi groans. “Your mom, hmm? Because I didn’t feel enough like a cradle-robbing old pervert, now we need to bring your mom into this conversation,” he drawls, and Eren’s mouth snaps shut. “She’s right, though. But that was in Connecticut, and who the fuck wants to live in Connecticut, anyway?”

“Sometimes you can’t get an apartment if they can’t call your last place of, uh,” Eren’s eyebrows twist, “address?”

“Residence,” Levi supplies absentmindedly, trotting into the kitchen. _‘Somehow I think this conversation isn’t over yet.’_

“Yeah, that,” Eren nods, expression firm. “That’s really bad, Levi.”

He sighs. “I know. It wasn’t the only time I did it, and it came back to bite me in the ass once or twice,” he admits. “I mean, Christ, when Erwin hired me at _The Ave Maria_ , he dug up all the shit he could find on me. Let me tell you: painting with crap doesn’t paint a pretty picture.”

Eren looks fascinated, eyes intent as he leans against one of the kitchen counters. “And he still hired you?”

“Hired me?” Levi laughs shortly, “I was just about to turn thirty and I’d lied on my resume about having serving experience, figuring he’d trust my age and wouldn’t bother calling a place all the way down in goddamn Arizona, and when I come in for my first shift,” he reports, “the second I’m through the door he calls me into his office.”

Eren sucks in a breath through his teeth, visibly invested in the story.

“Just calls me right in, asks me if I’m looking forward to working at _The Ave Maria_ , waits for me to pull out the whole _‘yes sir, thank you for the opportunity, sir’_ shit and then goes _‘so I notice you haven’t lived in one place for very long, Levi. Why exactly is that?’_ ”

Eren barks with laughter, covering his mouth with a hand.

“So I’m just thinking _fuck_ , because I need this job. At the time, I was living in a hotel- just like when you met me-” Eren interrupts him.

“You were living in a hotel when I met you?” he asks, startled.

Levi raises his eyebrows at him. “I’d been in town for a couple of hours, what do you expect?” He sighs. “Fuck it, never mind. Do you want something to drink?”

Eren raises his hands desperately. “No!” He protests loudly, and then, more quietly, “no, I want to hear the rest of your story.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “I was living in a hotel and I couldn’t find an apartment and I was running out of money, so I needed the job so I wouldn’t end up on the fucking streets. Anyway, Erwin told me the only way he was going to let me work for me is if he could be guaranteed I wasn’t going to skip town,” he rattles off impatiently.

Eren gapes at him a little. “How? Did he… take your driver’s license or something?”

He snorts. “Worse. He made me live with him.”

Eren’s eyes go wide and inquisitive.

“Before you ask, no,” he says firmly, “it was never like that. Even if I was interested, I don’t shit where I eat and Erwin’s straight, anyway. But he set me up in his spare room, and every time I started thinking about fucking off he’d just sort of look at me like he knew what I was thinking,” he mutters, grimacing at the memory, “and go _‘Levi, didn’t you have a shift today?’_ ”

Eren looks like he has a question.

“No,” Levi says again, “I didn’t always, and that meant that sometimes he had me working thirteen or fourteen hour days for weeks in a row- I think the longest I went was,” he rubs at his mouth, trying to remember. “Twenty-six days?”

Eren is gaping openly at him. “You worked twenty-six days in a row?”

He nods curtly at him. “Yeah, and I know it was because he wanted to keep me so exhausted I wouldn’t consider leaving, but on the twenty-seventh day, I fucking packed my shit and went. _But_ ,” he starts, before Eren can interrupt, “I hadn’t even gotten across state lines when Erwin texted me, telling me that if I wanted my last pay, I was going to have to come back and pick it up. That happened about three months into working there.”

“So what did you do?”

He eyes his curious face. “I turned around. When you work every day for two weeks, you want to get paid for those two weeks. I don’t fucking work for free. Of course, when I got there, Erwin tried to convince me to stay,” he sighs. “So the next thing I know, it’s been two years and I’m _still_ working at _The Ave Maria_ -”

Eren absolutely _howls_ at that.

Levi hangs his head, laughing despite himself. “You know, I was so pissed at the time,” he muses, “I wanted to kill him. Looking back on it now, though, it is pretty funny,” he admits, and Eren nods mechanically, face going progressively pinker with mirth. “Anyway, that’s the longest I’ve lived in one place since I moved off the base.”

Eren’s giggling subsides into sighing. “You’re talking a lot today, Levi,” he comments.

Levi frowns. “I always talk this much,” he says defensively, and Eren’s expression pinches in a way that suggests that something is nagging at him.

He suddenly shakes his head like he has water in his ears. “Sorry,” he smiles, “what did we come here to do, again?”

Levi snorts. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you actually forgot?”

***

He takes it slow at first, which apparently drives Eren insane with frustration.

He continues to take it slow precisely _because_ it drives Eren insane with frustration.

Eren is panting, flushed, and has his fingers fisted tightly in Levi’s hair when he finally breaks down and whines, “Can we just _do_ it already?”

Levi snorts, shoving him off his lap. “Fuck, you’re pushy. Why are you in such a hurry to get your ass wrecked?”

He watches the colour rise in Eren’s face, deepening from warm arousal tempered by impatience to a brilliant hue of mortification.

“I hadn’t actually considered how this was going to work,” he admits, and Levi groans.

“You’ve never bottomed,” he says. It’s not a question.

Eren’s silence is enough of an answer, which is good, because he wasn’t asking.

“And I’m pretty sure you’d never blown anyone before you blew me. Okay,” he sighs, “exactly how much _have_ you done, Eren?”

Eren hesitates and Levi grimaces.

“Don’t lie to me. I’m going to know, one way or another.”

Eren scratches at the back of his neck, eyes drifting somewhere to Levi’s left. “Um, well, I slept with a girl once.”

Levi makes a sharp, encouraging gesture. “That’s a good start,” he coaxes. “And? There is an ‘and’ here, right?”

“Yes!” Eren confirms, a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I figured out for sure that I was gay.”

Levi makes a face but says nothing. _‘Poor chick.’_

“I fooled around with a couple guys in high school,” Eren shrugs, “and I’ve, um, topped, but I never really met a guy I wanted to bottom for, I guess.”

Levi raises an eyebrow. “If you really want to do this, I hope there’s an ‘until now’ in there, kid, because I don’t like to take dicks in general and I sure as hell am not going to take somebody’s dick the first time I sleep with them.”

Eren nods aggressively. “Yeah, I mean, it’s different? It’s different with you.”

Levi’s not sure how to feel about that sentiment.

“How romantic,” he drawls. “You know I might not even be around in a couple of months, right?”

Eren’s crawling towards him again. “Yeah. I hope you will, though,” he breathes, and Levi can feel him smiling as his lips make contact with Levi’s own.

“Don’t get too attached to me now, shithead,” Levi mumbles against that smile, pulling him down into his lap again.

His fingers are slipping under the hem of Eren’s shirt when they’re interrupted by a muffled electronic beeping that Levi’s sure isn’t coming from anything he owns.

Eren jumps and swears, looking angry. “My phone-” he fumbles, scrambling off the bed and darting towards the door.

Levi looks at his suddenly empty hands for a moment before following him.

“-kasa, this is kind of a bad time, I’m a little- sorry, you’re where?”

He watches the flush drain from Eren’s face with more amusement than concern.

“No, no, no, it’s fine! Just, um, unexpected. I’m not at home right now,” Eren says haltingly, glancing at him with a rising look of guilt and then grimacing suddenly. “No, you don’t have to do that! I’ll be right the- what do you mean, who am I with?”

Levi actually laughs at that. Eren looks mortified.

“A… friend?” he answers his caller awkwardly, his lost colour rapidly restoring itself. “What? No, I don’t think he’s gonna want- _hello?_ ”

He holds out his phone with an expression of wonder. “I think she just hung up on me.”

Levi snickers. “Your mom?” he muses.

Eren’s scowl is telling. “Worse- Mikasa. So my sister, basically.” He pauses, going white for the second time in what feels like as many minutes. “Thank god we went to your house. Oh my god. Holy shit.”

He snorts. “Calm down, Jesus. Don’t you have somebody to meet?”

“I’m really sorry about this,” Eren apologizes, and then starts to fidget in a way that Levi finds slightly suspicious. “She, um, asked me to bring you with me?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Eren rushes, hands raised defensively. “But, I mean, if you do-”

“I think I’ll pass this time, kid,” Levi tells him drily.

_‘The last thing I need is to meet your friends.’_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa "Painfully Blunt" Ackerman.
> 
> And that some actually sexy shit happened, or something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! I'm sorry it's been so long since the last update- uh, well, I guess it's only been five days or something, but it feels longer because I was updating so quickly at first.

The first time he meets Mikasa Ackerman, it’s totally accidental.

He’s having a drink at _The Black and Tan_ \- the same bar Eren dragged him to, the only bar in this city he’s bothered to remember- when he sees her, and there’s a fraction of a moment in which he thinks he might know her before he decides, no, maybe he’s seen her face in a newspaper or on television or something.

She’s a tall, prettyish- _‘on the pleasant side of average, very girl next door,’_ Levi muses- Asian girl with an unsmiling mouth and dark eyes that seem to stare through walls and people altogether, and even through her sweater, he can see that her arms and shoulders are hard with muscle.

He doesn’t quite piece together who she is until he sees who she’s with, and then he thinks,

  _‘Ah.’_

She’s the same height as Eren, nearly the same build except for the sinuous curve of her waist and hips, but the oddly demure, even childlike way she tucks her chin into the heavy folds of fabric around her neck when he hands her a drink is a stark contrast to his lifted posture and animated mouth.

They’re pulling out chairs at the table in the corner, the same table Eren had tried for when he’d come here with Levi, and Levi can hear his voice over the chatter of the other patrons sitting at the bar.

He fills a lot of space, this kid, Levi thinks. _‘They’re almost the same size, but you wouldn’t think it.’_

Eren’s softer than his would-be sister, less chiseled and fastidiously polished, but his expressive features and unruly hair makes him seem bigger than her, somehow.

She meets his gaze like she felt him watching her, and he watches her eyes narrow incrementally before she turns her head away, lips moving.

Eren’s face goes blank for a moment, and then his eyes shoot forward, skimming along the line of barstools until they hit Levi, and then up, to Levi’s face.

The smile that overtakes him is so genuine it makes Levi feel strangely guilty.

“Levi!” he calls, and he’s even louder now, so loud that people start to look, and Levi actually cringes.

“Shut up, Christ, shut up,” he mutters, sliding off of his stool with his glass in one hand and his coat in the other. “Aren’t you supposed to be spending time with your friend?” he grouses when he gets close enough for Eren to hear, but Eren just shrugs, grin unwavering.

Eren pats the chair beside him with an obnoxiously heavy hand. “You didn’t tell me you’d be here- come sit with us, Levi!”

His companion flinches, too, and her eyes meet Levi’s own, wan and commiserating for only an instant before turning cold again.

Levi does sit, and it has more to do with the fact that he doesn’t want to deal with Eren trying to argue him down until he does than the presence of any real curiosity or desire.

“Levi, this is Mikasa, my best friend,” Eren says, indicating her as though she isn’t the only person at the table that Levi doesn’t know, and Levi raises an eyebrow.

“Basically your sister,” he supplies drily, and Mikasa’s eyebrows inch upwards, his eyes flickering wordlessly in Eren’s direction.

“Yeah,” Eren confirms, and then juts a demonstrative palm in Levi’s direction. “Mikasa, this is Levi, my-”

Levi doesn’t like the long pause that follows or the colour that’s rising in Eren’s face. He also doesn’t like Mikasa’s fast-darkening expression.

“-the guy he’s been bothering for a month or something for no fucking reason,” Levi finishes, sighing into his drink. “Can’t get a damn thing done with this kid around. Take him home with you.”

To his credit, Mikasa’s tense shoulders loosen a little at that, and he thinks he almost sees a smile, but Eren’s indignant squawk interrupts those curling lips before they can really happen.

Eren carries the conversation from there, dragging soft murmurs of assent from Mikasa and terse grunts of apathy from Levi, and it’s comfortably awkward until he announces that he has to use the bathroom.

“Because I needed to know exactly how much beer you can drink before you need to take a leak,” Levi snipes, watching Eren disappear into a corridor to their left.

The ensuing silence is so resounding that Levi finds himself unable to avoid learning the facts of the neighbouring table’s new relationship and her friends’ opinions on it.

 _‘He sounds like a douchebag,’_ he thinks, and then remembers that he doesn’t care.

“I don’t like you.”

For a moment, he almost doesn’t hear her.

Her eyes are intent, honest rather than hostile.

He set down his cup, raising a shoulder noncommittally. “I can’t say I blame you,” he answers wryly. “I don’t like me most of the time, either.”

This time, she really does smile, and he stands corrected: Mikasa Ackerman is beautiful.

There’s something a little broken about her, something she wears like a mask of pretended homeliness.

The smile is gone as fast as it appeared, but Levi does not forget it.

“You don’t really dislike me,” he murmurs, eyes watching over her shoulder for a familiar figure.

He hears rather than sees her smile, this time.

“I really do. I’m sorry.”

***

**_New Message: Eren Jaeger_ **   
_so what did you think of mikasa? **– 22:08**_

Levi snorts.

_Talkative. **– 22:08 (sent)**_

Eren’s response is so prompt that Levi’s screen barely has the chance to dim before it brightens again.

_are we talking about the same person?? **– 22:08**_

Levi just looks at his phone for a while, questioning his life choices.

_It was a joke. **– 22:10 (sent)**_

_oh . haha – **22:10**_   
_that actually is pretty funny **– 22:10**_

He groans incredulously. “Jesus _Christ_ , Eren.”

_i dont think she likes you. **– 22:11**_

He quirks an eyebrow. _‘Tactful.’_

_And here I was sure I’d met my future wife. My heart is breaking. **– 22:11 (sent)**_

_haha gross **– 22:11**_   
_wait that was a joke again right? **– 22:12**_

“Why,” he asks himself quietly, “did I think that screwing around with a nineteen year old was a good idea?”

 _‘Because he’s better than decent looking,’_ he answers himself, _‘and mostly tolerable about seventy-five percent of the time.’_

Even as he’s thinking it, he knows he’s lying to himself.

It’s more like eighty-five percent. Ninety if he’s feeling particularly tolerant.

_levi?? **– 22:12**_

_Yes, Eren, it was a joke. You got it this time. Do you want a fucking sticker? **– 22:13 (sent)**_

***

The second time he meets Mikasa Ackerman is just as accidental as the first, but this time, he has the dubious pleasure of knowing exactly who he’s locking eyes with in aisle four of the local pharmacy.

He’s acutely aware of the very cinematic awkwardness that occurs when they spot each other, him with his fingers resting on a box of condoms and her with a package of tampons in her hand, and he doesn’t miss the way her gaze lingers on what he’s about to purchase.

“Hello,” she says softly, and he just looks at her.

 _‘Does no one in this kid’s life know when to politely look the other fucking way?’_ he wonders, and nods vaguely in acknowledgement, pulling the box off of the shelf and feigning to read the label to avoid making eye contact.

“Eren tells me you’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

His eyes blur over the words _electronically tested_ as he sighs inwardly and looks at her, not bothering to turn his head. “Is that a problem?”

She says nothing, but her eyes travel from his face to the box in his hand and back, and she shifts from one foot to the other in a way that could be discomfort or the start of a fighting stance. He’s not sure which it is.

He sighs aloud, this time. “You seem to be jumping to conclusions.”

Her words sound indifferent, even if her eyes are not. “You don’t seem like you’d have any other friends.”

_‘God fucking help me.’_

“Do you really think,” he asks her frankly, “I’m buying condoms because I intend to fuck Eren _goddamn_ Jaeger up the ass?”

Her eyes are unwavering for a moment, but then they drop, and that little smile reappears, turning her wan face beautiful again.

“I guess not.”

***

He’s just as loud as Levi expected.

“At this rate,” he grumbles, “I’m going to have to fucking gag you as soon as I find your shitty goddamn elusive prostate.”

Eren laughs and then hitches out another strangled groan, thighs shaking. “This feels weird,” he complains for what feels like the thousandth time, and Levi sighs.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No,” Eren mumbles into the pillow. “Sorry. I just- _urgh_ \- I didn’t know it would feel like this. Does it get better?”

Levi slides a third finger in, hooking downwards again, still seeking and not finding. “Stop fucking squirming and it will,” he mutters. Eren mumbles something. It takes Levi a moment to figure out what. “Of course it didn’t look like it felt this weird to the guys you topped, Eren, they probably weren’t fucking rookie bottoms like you. It’s just something you get used to, I guess.”

Eren lifts his shoulders around his ears and buries his forehead in the pillow, hips edging forward with the movement of his spine. “I feel kinda exposed like this.”

Levi sighs, doing his best to follow. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve fingered anyone,” he grimaces, trying to quash the feeling of anxiety that accompanies prolonged thought about where he has his hand. “And it’s easier like this, at least for me.”

Eren’s peeking shyly at him over his shoulder.

Levi eyes the triangle of his thighs and the sloping curve of his back appreciatively. “It’s not too bad of a view,” he admits, and Eren wiggles unhelpfully.

“Really?”

He grunts affirmatively, trying to hold Eren’s hips still with one hand while he searches with the fingertips of the other.

The sharp intake of breath and snapping arch of Eren’s spine confirms for Levi what he’d suspected. “There we fucking go,” he mutters, pressing down.  

Eren’s writhing isn’t helping, so he loops his arm around Eren’s thighs to steady him as he works his fingers downwards in a rolling motion.

“Christ, you’re so fucking loud,” Levi mumbles, almost laughing.

He’s even _louder_ than Levi expected.

It’s bizarrely arousing while also being embarrassing and a little bit ridiculous.

In one of Eren’s brief, merciful moments of breathless silence, he swears he hears one of the neighbours swear incredulously, and he grins, pulling his fingers free.

Eren nearly falls over, whipping his head around to stare at Levi, wild-eyed.

Levi’s pretty sure the sounds he’s making are supposed to be words, but they sure as hell don’t sound like them.

“Roll over,” he orders briskly, holding his soiled hand away from himself. “I want to try something.”

As soon as Eren has complied, he slides his fingers back in, fumbling for a moment before finding his place. Eren’s hips pop upwards, and he presses his palm down against his crotch, rocking into the circle of his hand and panting between groans.

It takes a moment of coaxing to convince him to relinquish his dick, but as soon as he does, Levi takes it from him, mouthing experimentally at the skin under the head, and Eren’s hand settles in his hair so fast it tangles.

He’s not sure what Eren’s _trying_ to say, but it sounds an awful lot like an extremely broken version of _“that’s my dick, Levi,”_ to which Levi has no response worth the effort of vocalizing except for a half-mumbled “I certainly fucking hope so,” before occupying his mouth with other things.

It’s been a while since he’s done this, but if one were to judge his performance by nothing other than Eren’s garbled moaning, hitching gasps, and breathless panting, it would seem to them that Levi had a lifetime of experience in the sex industry.

It’s oddly flattering.

He can feel the restless tension in Eren rising, though, as he tongues at his frenulum, so he pulls his mouth and hand free, one after the other, and climbs off of the bed.

Eren looks _panicked_.

“Wha- where are you going?”

The urge to fuck with him is overwhelming.

“I’m just going to wash my hands, try not to cream my bed in the interim,” he drawls instead, walking briskly to the bathroom.

He knows he’s taking too long washing his hands when Eren calls for him uncertainly, but he can still _feel_ it under his fingernails.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and tells himself that there’s nothing there.

The skin on his hand is red from scrubbing- he can still feel the bristles of the nailbrush scraping the skin under his nails raw.

When he walks back into the bedroom, Eren hasn’t moved, but his erection has wilted significantly and he looks a little bit confused.

And cold.

“Sorry,” Levi mumbles, kissing him, and Eren’s arms loop around his neck readily, his heavy-lidded look of anticipation returning.

“I thought you just left for a couple of minutes there,” he confesses, and Levi apologizes again, cringing. “Where did you-”

“I was washing my hands,” Levi interrupts, harsh in his desperation to avoid the subject. “Can we not talk about this right now, please?”

Eren looks a little surprised but not especially perturbed. “Okay.”

Levi runs his palms up Eren’s thighs, trying to even his breathing. “You okay? You still want to do this?” he presses, speaking quietly and then realizing that there’s no one to hear.

No one he cares about, anyway.

“Yeah,” Eren whispers in response, and then bites his lip. “Can we do it like this? I want to look at you.”

Levi looks up at him from where he’s kneeling, a little surprised by his hesitancy. “Sure. Why the fuck wouldn’t we be able to?”

Eren mumbles something half-formed and shrugs.

Levi pauses in the middle of rolling the condom down, a little disconcerted. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Eren smiles at him in a way that makes him feel like he’s both on the verge of having his throat close and throwing up. “Yeah, I’m sure, Levi.”

Eren breathes in sharply as he enters him, and Levi murmurs absentminded reassurances, easing in until Eren’s breathing slows.

It feels good.

After going long enough without, it’s easy to forget just how good it feels.

Eren’s eyebrows are knitted, and without the pressure on his prostate, he’s visibly more caught in the grip of just how _strange_ the sensation is than he is pleasured, but his eyes are fixed on Levi’s face with an intentness that makes him feel strange.

He pulls Eren up into a sitting position on his lap, burying his nose and mouth in his throat, half out of embarrassment, half out of desire, and guides Eren in increasingly bolder and broader motions on top of him, eyes slipping closed at the sensation.

He’d already forgotten what a fast learner has Eren proven to be.

“Oh, _Christ,_ ” he murmurs, hands tightening on Eren’s waist as Eren leans the weight of his balance on Levi’s shoulders, beginning to move independent of guidance.

He’s dimly aware that this can’t feel that spectacular to a beginning bottom, especially since it took him so long to find his prostate with his fingers, which pretty much guarantees he hasn’t done it accidentally with his dick, but Eren is moaning and his hips are undulating on Levi’s and he lets his head fall back a bit because it feels good and he’s not thinking about having shit under his fingernails or getting his ass kicked by an Olympic-level boxer or the fact that this kid looks at him in a way that scares him right to core.

It feels _good_.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Eren,” he moans, and Eren moans loudly in answer, the rhythm of his rolling hips quickening.

Levi can vaguely feel the pressure of a hand on his cheek and jaw, tilting his chin upwards, but there are too many sensations to attend to and his hands are aching and his thighs are going numb and he’s going to come, it feels _so fucking good_.

He has no idea what kind of sound it is he makes, or what it is that he says when he comes, but Eren is snug and hot and goddamn _ambrosial_ around him and he thinks he hears Eren moaning his name, but he’s just coming down when it’s suddenly _tight_ and he hisses in a breath through his teeth at the sudden overstimulation.

It’s just for a moment, and then, the tightness relaxes and there’s a stickiness between them that he dimly- and somewhat belatedly- recognizes as Eren’s spunk.

“Gross,” he mumbles without actually giving a shit, and Eren leans heavily on him, laughing breathlessly into his hair.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, Armin!
> 
> I hadn't expected to be writing Armin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, hope you don't mind too much.

Instead of the insistent chirping of his alarm, Levi wakes up to an edge of sunlight burning at his eyelids and something soft pressing against his lips.

It takes a moment for his sense of smell to kick in, and then he grimaces, shoving Eren away.

“Brush your fucking teeth,” he grouses. _‘Morning breath. Disgusting.’_

Eren’s laugh vibrates through his chest, and he dimly awakens to the realization that something heavy is weighing on his side.

A nose jabs against his throat clumsily as Eren lays a slightly wet kiss against his jaw.

He pats him awkwardly with a hand, unwilling to surrender his unconsciousness.

“G’morning,” Eren murmurs, evidently encouraged, leg twined between Levi’s own, and Levi grunts, because they’ve both been sweating and sweaty bare skin against sweaty bare skin isn’t entirely pleasant.

His mind falters and chugs like an old computer for a moment before his eyes flash open.

_‘I fucked this kid last night.’_

Somehow, that changes things profoundly for a reason that was incredibly important a moment ago but grows more ephemeral by the second.

All his waking mind has retained of the objection is the words _abuse of authority_ and they inspire in him an immediate feeling of deep, sick guilt that doesn’t make any rational sense without a context to justify it.

He pats Eren’s hair awkwardly again, trying to slow his suddenly elevated heart rate. “Good morning,” he mumbles, voice rough.

Eren is frowning.

“You look kinda freaked out,” he starts, caressing Levi’s bicep in a petting motion, “like, you really look like shit right now. Are you okay?”

Levi looks at him.

“Your tact is fucking phenomenal,” he deadpans. “I almost can’t tell you think I look like shit.”

Eren coughs, but Levi suspects he’s covering up a laugh, because he smiles a little afterwards. “Sorry.”

Levi shoves him off with a sigh, rolling out of bed.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, “you want some breakfast?”

***

He’s always a bit terse, but today he’s actually having to try to be characteristically irritable.

People are _noticing_.

One of the receptionists at the hotel smiled when she saw him, commenting,

“You look happier today, Levi.”

And later,

**_New Message: Erwin Smith_ **   
_You’re not texting with your usual level of paranoid vitriol, Levi. I’m intrigued. **– 15:41**_

And finally, when he’s buying his grocery at the all-night supermarket- _‘out of eggs thanks to Eren goddamn Jaeger,_ ’ he thinks without any genuine malice, because hell if he’s going to begrudge him a few eggs after last night- his cashier, a petite blond boy with a decidedly unflattering haircut he knows he’s seen before but whose nametag he has never bothered to glance at, is smiling a little strangely at him.

“Are you Levi?” he asks suddenly, and Levi freezes, lips pressing into a line.

His nametag says _Armin_.

_‘Why do I know that name?’_

There’s no one else in the supermarket at eleven-forty at night on a Wednesday, so he can’t use that as an excuse to avoid this conversation.

Given that it’s also eleven-forty at night on Wednesday in the first place, he can’t exactly say he’s in a hurry to get somewhere, either.

Levi just looks at him. “Why?”

He continues typing on his keyboard, tapping in the digits of a barcode that Levi suspects he intentionally prevented from scanning electronically and speeding up the process. “I’m friends with Eren,” he says simply.

His gaze is too watchful for so casual a tone. This kid has a sweet face, Levi thinks, _‘but he’s not stupid.’_

“So what if I am?” Levi asks him defensively, and the kid- _‘Armin, what kind of name is Armin?’_ \- smiles, sliding his carton of eggs into a plastic bag with practiced care.

“I had a feeling,” he smiles, mostly genuine but a little mischievous around the eyes. “Eren talks about you a lot.”

 _‘Armin,’_ he thinks, and his mind forms the words “ _I have friends, I even made one today”_ more sluggishly than he would’ve liked. “You’ve known him for exactly as long as you’ve known me,” he needles precisely, “and you’re telling me that he talks about me to you?”

Armin laughs softly, eyes flickering towards the back of the store. Levi can see an older-looking man in the same uniform lingering by the canned goods, but he doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

“That’s actually how he started talking to me,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Did you know that?”

Levi is not even vaguely surprised, somehow.

“Eren,” Armin sighs, “skipped our morning class- Introduction to Philosophy, maybe he told you- and then recognized me when he came through my cash with a basket full of energy drinks.”

Levi closes his eyes for a moment, eyebrows furrowing. “Is there a point to this or can I pay for my shit and go?”

Armin is undisturbed. “I’d been here for about fifteen minutes when he lunged across my cash, going _‘was today the first day on Rene Descartes?’_ ”

Despite his best efforts, Levi actually laughs at that, because the expression of utter intensity that Armin adopts is so distinctly Eren that he can _see_ it happening.

“I told him _‘yes, we finished our unit on empiricism this morning, now we’ve started rationalism,’_ and he started rambling about not attending because he met this guy at a diner and couldn’t sleep-” Armin’s look is sharp and knowing. It makes Levi uncomfortable. “And then, because lines were building up and he wouldn’t move, my manager told him he had to leave or he’d be escorted out by security, so he stood right there-” He follows Armin’s pointing finger to the sidewalk just outside of the doors “-scribbled his number on the back of his receipt and then threw it at me when they were open for long enough.”

The motion Armin makes is eerily evocative of the same elegant draw-and-release he’d seen Eren do when they were sitting on the roof, pitching chunks of bread at freshmen. He finds it strange, how uncannily this kid can imitate the mannerisms of a person he’s known for no longer than Levi has.

Armin leans his elbows on the counter, hitting a couple of loose-sounding keys before lacing his fingers together beneath his chin. “Go ahead and swipe your card. But like I said: he talks a lot about you.”

Levi swipes a little more aggressively than is probably warranted.

“How do you even know who I fucking _am?_ ” he asks, disgruntled. “Has he been taking pictures of me without me knowing, or is it some other creepy shit?”

Armin smiles again, and this time, the mischief isn’t slight.

“I also work over at the pharmacy. School is expensive, you know?”

Levi slows as he slides his card back into his wallet, staring at Armin’s nametag. _‘You’re fucking joking.’_

“I met Mikasa a couple of days ago- it wasn’t hard to put everything together when I saw how she was looking at you,” he comments pleasantly, “and scanned what you were buying.”

Levi takes his receipt too quickly, crumpling it in his first as he walks quickly towards the doors.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Levi!” Armin calls after him.

The urge to flip him off is overwhelming.

He does not resist.

***

_Eren. **– 00:14 (sent)**_

_levi? **\- 00:14**_

_Do me a favor: don’t fucking gossip about me to your shitty teenage friends. **– 00:14 (sent)**_

_what?? **– 00:15**_   
_oh shit **– 00:15**_   
_i think armins twenty already though **– 00:15**_

_I think you missed the point, Eren. **– 00:16 (sent)**_

_wait no he just turned nineteen **– 00:16**_   
_sorry **– 00:16**_

_Still not the fucking point, Eren. **– 00:16 (sent)**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi's short and neurotic. Eren's not as coddled as he appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter contains some content that might be troubling to some, including a brief discussion of narcotics and drug use and abuse. Please tell me if there's anything problematic enough to require tagging here.

The next time he sees Eren, he thinks,

_‘I should have expected this.’_

The moment they’re through the door to Levi’s apartment- as soon as it was presented to him, he knew that Eren’s casual statement of preference was a thin and unconvincing screen for his true intentions because Eren lies like a child, face improperly composed into an expression of mock innocence over a look of bright-eyed animal cunning, but he said nothing- Eren answers the clicking of the latch into place by pressing Levi back against the door, shoes still on his feet and laces half untied, eclipsing the entryway light with his head and shoulders.

His fingers are slightly chilled on Levi’s cheeks, but his lips are warm. Levi quells the thought that Eren’s been touching things and hasn’t washed his hands yet. The sentiment is cute. He can cope, at least for the moment.

Still, Levi dislikes the way he’s dwarfed by Eren’s height.

When they sit together, their shoulders are nearly even- where Eren is all long legs and lightly muscled arms, Levi is a compact core of muscle with short limbs attached, heavy but lean, and sitting side-by-side, a keen eye can identify the difference: Levi’s shoulder actually sits a fraction above Eren’s, despite the height difference.

Standing, however, is a different proposition, because Eren is stooping a little to kiss him, and he refuses to go up on his toes in compromise.

It’s undignified.

It’s for that reason amongst a slew of others that he shoves Eren off with a muttered, “Finish taking off your goddamn shoes, Christ,” before Eren can get too carried away.

Fortunately or unfortunately, circumstances depending, Eren doesn’t look too bothered by the rebuttal, dropping down obediently to sit on the floor and struggle with the laces of his sneakers.

He’s still tugging at them long after Levi’s already slipped off his- much cleaner and more practical, given the season- boots, and Levi just sort of looks at him for a while, both aghast at and terribly amused by the intense focus Eren is dedicating to what should be a very simple task.

“Why do you lace them all the way up if you’re just going to take forever to get them off?” he asks, eyeing Eren’s fingers as he plucks at another row of crisscrossing shoelace.

“Sorry,” Eren laughs, shooting him a grin, “they started putting salt down on the roads when it snowed last week, and it makes my laces kind of, um,” his eyebrows furrow, “crunchy? Happens every year. Always fucks up the canvas of my high-tops, too.”

Levi grimaces. “Gross. Wash your hands after you get those off, I’m pretty sure that shit is toxic.” He watches him silently for a moment. “If you know this is going to happen because it happens every goddamn year, why don’t you wear different shoes before it does and save yourself the trouble?”

Eren’s grin is a little sheepish this time. “I forget.”

“You forget?” he drawls, tucking his hands in his pockets. “For what, the entire winter? Every day, you get up, put on your shoes, leave the house and suddenly realize _‘oh shit, I did it again?’_ Every single goddamn day of winter?”

He’s a bit taken aback by Eren’s sudden blank look.

“Yeah.”

It’s a very quiet admittance, but it’s loaded in a way that Levi can’t read.

It takes him a moment to identify the look in Eren’s eyes.

 _‘Fight me,’_ Levi realizes. _‘Back off or fucking fight me.’_

He’s both disconcerted and a little amused by the extent of Eren’s overreaction to such a trivial amount of needling- especially given how easily he usually takes Levi’s ruthless belittlement- but he raises his palms in surrender, anyway, and Eren is visibly relieved.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, tugging more aggressively at his stiff shoelaces, and Levi wanders towards the kitchen, bemused.

“Why are you sorry?” he calls over his shoulder as he fills the kettle from the tap. There are water stains on the side of it. He frowns at them. _‘Maybe I should get a filter. Who knows what’s in these old ass pipes, and I’m drinking from them.’_ He shoves aside the thought for later consideration, willing himself not to dwell on it.

“No reason,” Eren responds belatedly. Levi sets the kettle to boil, wiping absentmindedly at the water spots under its spout.

“Remember to wash your hands before you wipe your gross salty fingers all over my fucking apartment,” he shoots. _‘Am I out of Assam?’_

“I remember, I’m doing it, fuck off.”

Levi blinks at the harsh defensiveness of his tone, actually a bit irritated by it. “What the hell crawled up your ass and died today?” he snipes, weaving his way to the bathroom. Eren is scrubbing aggressively, even a little angrily, at his hands. “You got something you want to say to me, kid?”

The look Eren shoots him at first is harsh in a way that Levi’s not accustomed to seeing on Eren’s face, but it softens quickly into something oddly guilty. “No,” he sighs, turning off the tap. “Sorry, it’s just- I had class earlier. Friday mornings, you know?”

 _‘Because that explains anything,’_ Levi comments. “What, didn’t go well? Or are you just pissed off because you had to get up early?” He refrains from adding some variation of _“you poor fucking baby”_ and congratulates himself on his restraint.

Eren just looks at him. “No, it was fine. I’m fine.” He sighs again, first moving to wipe his hands on his pants before hesitating and moving towards the hand towel hanging beside the shower. “It’s just- it’s hard to explain.”

“Meaning _‘I don’t feel like explaining,’_ ” Levi corrects, crossing his arms and shrugging. “That’s fine. But don’t take your shit out on me, Eren. I’m not a fucking toilet.”

Eren nods sharply, staring at the floor and rubbing at the back of his neck like he’s not sure what to do.

Levi exhales through his nose. “Stop moping, it’s even less cute than the shitty desperate college student act you pull the rest of the time,” he grouses.

Eren actually cracks a crooked little smile at that, glancing surreptitiously up at him. “Oh, so you think I’m at least kinda cute some of the time?”

Levi smacks him upside the head with a snort.

“Don’t get cocky, I still owe you an ass-kicking for the shit you pulled when we met.”

***

Sometimes he wonders what it must be like to live inside Eren’s head.

 _‘On one hand, it’s like he never stops thinking about sex,’_ he muses, _‘but on the other, the instant I start talking about my past, he jumps on that like a fly on shit.’_ He eyes Eren’s look of conflict with amusement. “Sometimes I don’t think even you know if you want to hop on my dick or hear my life story more,” he murmurs, and Eren laughs lightly, trailing his fingers down Levi’s thigh.

It’s a little distracting.

“You’re probably right about that,” Eren admits. “I’m pretty interested in both.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi drawls, “I can’t really do both at the same time, and even if I could, it sounds like too much fucking work, so you’re going to have to make up your mind about which one you want right now or you’re not getting either.”

Eren laughs again and then sighs, balling his fist above Levi’s thigh before sitting back and setting his hands in his lap with an almost pained expression. “Okay,” he mutters, seemingly to himself, “okay, I have to know: how the hell did you work in a bar without pissing off all your customers, it’s been bothering me for like,” he licks his lips uncertainly, “a week. More than a week, maybe. I don’t know, I’m not great at keeping track of time, so I-”

Levi cuts him off with a wave. “I’ve got good hand-eye coordination, I’m not afraid to tell a few drunk assholes to sober up or get out, and I don’t give a shit about what other people do with their lives,” he interrupts, “so I make a pretty good bartender. You want to talk about how your wife doesn’t fuck you anymore? Go ahead, I don’t give a shit,” he explains. “You’re cheating on your husband and he’s probably the same dude who came crying to me about how you haven’t been screwing him? Not my fucking problem, I’m not going to tell him. Stealing from your boss, fighting with your parents, don’t know how to tell your girlfriend that you love her but you’re into fucking dudes? I’m not going to judge, I’ve skipped leases and sold drugs and left a girl at the altar, I’m no fucking saint, I don’t give a shit what you do when you’re not paying me to pour something for you.” He scratches at his scalp irritably, suddenly exasperated with this line of conversation.  “Believe it or not, Eren, it’s not that I don’t like people, I just don’t-”

“You left a girl at the altar?”

He pauses and then swears internally. “That was a joke.”

Eren’s face tells him quite clearly that he doesn’t believe that.

Levi sighs. “I didn’t mean to tell you that.” Eren’s frown is ominously grim. “It’s a long story.”

He knows there’s no clean way to escape the conversation when Eren crosses his arms across his chest, eyes sharp and judgemental. “I’m going to crash here tonight,” he announces bluntly. “We’ve got time.”

Levi glances at the clock.

Not even nine. _‘Shit.’_

He sags in resignation, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’ll give you the abridged version: when I was a nineteen year old fuck up, I accidentally knocked up the girl I was dating.” Eren opens his mouth to say something and Levi grunts warningly. “You want to hear this story, you let me fucking talk. You can ask all the shitty pointless questions you want to after.” He pauses. “Whether or not I answer them depends on how big of a turd you’re being, but you can ask,” he clarifies. “Anyway, this girl- Charlotte- was another army brat. We’d been dating since we were, I don’t know, sixteen or something, my mom was friends with her mom, and it was the first time my family had stayed in one place for so long, so even though it was exactly the same shitty awkward teenage relationship that everybody suffers through, we just sort of stayed together because there didn’t seem to be any good reason to break up.”

“Did you love her?”

He’s tempted to snap at him for interrupting, but Eren’s disapproving expression has melted into something more sympathetic, so he tolerates it. “No,” he answers honestly, and then hesitates. “Well, maybe, but not as much as she deserved,” he amends, fighting an old pang of guilt. “I didn’t hate her, which is more than I could say about most people at the time. She was the only person I wanted around, and I thought that was enough.”

Eren hums understandingly and Levi hates him for it, because he knows damn well that Eren doesn’t understand, that Eren can’t understand, because Eren’s only nineteen and Eren’s never hated everyone and everything and Eren didn’t grow up looking at his parents like they were strangers, didn’t grow up feeling like he was renting out a room into his own home.

Eren’s never fucked over the only friend he had, because Eren’s not the type to have ever had only one friend in the world.

Levi’s lips thin with distaste that he knows is unwarranted. “But I fucked up,” he bites out harshly, “we got into her father’s liquor cabinet and I got stupid and she got pregnant, and when our parents found out, I got the shotgun ultimatum.”

Eren’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “The wha-”

“‘ _Take responsibility for knocking up my daughter by marrying her or I’ll fucking kill you,’_ ” he growls, and Eren falls silent. “You get two choices when you fuck up like that: make her a bride or make her a widow who never got a wedding.”

Eren’s face has gone a little pale. Levi’s bitterness subsides into begrudging pity.

“They can’t just-” He swallows. “They can’t just kill somebody, you’d go to jail for that,” he protests, visibly uncertain.

Levi laughs. “Depends where you are, who you are, and who’d miss you if you disappeared,” he mutters drily. “But you’re right, to a degree- most of the time, saying no won’t actually get you killed, but it will get your ass beaten so badly they have to put you in a hospital,” he muses, “and it can get you thrown out or disowned, if your family takes her family’s side.” He frowns. “But that’s beside the point, because I didn’t say no. I told her family that I’d marry her.”

Eren is increasingly confused, and Levi can tell. “But you didn’t?” It’s probably a statement, but comes out sounding like a question.

“No,” he confirms, “I didn’t.” Eren’s look is turning wary again. He sighs. “And before you get too worked up about it, no, I don’t have a kid somewhere that I’ve abandoned. She miscarried about three months into the pregnancy.”

He knows that his feelings about that are showing on his face, because Eren looks torn between relief and concern.

“We were going to get married anyway,” he continues before Eren can say something stupid, “because even if she lost the kid, there’d still _been_ a kid and it seemed right to stick by her and take responsibility for her having to deal with losing something she never should have been burdened with in the first place. I made a huge goddamn mess of her life and it seemed to make sense that I should be the one to clean it up for her.”

Eren’s eyes are wide and cautious. “But you didn’t.” This time, it isn’t a question.

He grimaces. “No, I didn’t. I was nineteen and I’d never lived off-base or held a full-time job and I was about to get married to a girl who I’d almost had a kid with. I was fucking terrified,” he admits. “The day before the wedding, I was just sitting there, trying not to freak out about it, and I suddenly thought,” he raises his hands to his face, caught up in the still too-vivid sensation of numb fear he’d felt then. “ _Why am I doing this? Why did I think this was a good idea?_ ” He meets Eren’s shocked gaze with a quiet, mirthless laugh. “I fucked off, just packed what shit I had and ran. I called home once, a few days later, when I was almost broke and completely lost and finally sane enough to be scared out of my fucking mind, and my father told me in no certain terms that I shouldn’t come home.” He looks down at his crisply trimmed fingernails with a grunt. “I never claimed to be a role model, kid.” He reconsiders. “Well, maybe if you’re looking for a guide on what _not_ to do.”

It’s supposed to be a joke. It doesn’t sound like a joke.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting Eren to do with this information, but he knows he isn’t expecting the sudden pressure of Eren’s arms around him.

“Don’t get sappy on me now, shithead,” he snaps, shoving at him, and then stops. “Eren, are you crying?”

Eren shakes his head against Levi’s shoulder, but he can feel the chill of evaporating dampness against his skin, and he flounders.

“Don’t fucking cry, I never know what to do when people start crying, please don’t be fucking crying right now,” he mutters. It’s meant to be a demand, but it emerges a desperate plea, and he pats at Eren’s back awkwardly, aghast. “Why are you crying over bullshit that’s not yours to deal with? Christ, Eren, this shit happened when you were still in diapers, it’s fucking _over_ , why are you crying?”

“-feel bad,” Eren mumbles against his shoulder. Levi strokes his hair clumsily.

“What?”

“I feel bad,” Eren repeats, arms tightening around him.

“Why would you feel bad?” Levi asks incredulously. “I did it to myself and I’d probably still do the exact same shit given the chance, so what the hell are you crying about?”

Eren sits back with a sigh, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “No, I-” he starts, and then swallows. Levi suddenly recognizes the odd expression he’s making: it’s guilt. “I feel bad because I’m kind of glad it happened and that’s a shitty way to be,” he admits. “I’m a little glad you fucked your life up because otherwise you wouldn’t be here, and I’m sorry because that’s really messed up, I guess.”

Levi laughs, baffled. “Kid, I’m glad I’m here, too, but I’d be a hell of a lot more glad if you weren’t weeping like I just told you I have terminal fucking ass cancer or something,” he points out, and Eren actually snickers a bit. “Look, I’ve done a lot of unsavoury shit on the way to getting here, don’t ever fucking cry because you feel like you’re, I don’t know, being unfair to me or some other sentimental crap,” he tells him bluntly, “I’ve lied, I’ve cheated, I’ve done drugs, I’ve sold drugs- shit, I was selling weed and Ritalin to lazy college students to make a living less than a month after I left the base. I got by any way I could, and I never apologized to anybody for that.”

Eren stiffens and scrunches his nose unexpectedly at that profession, but he doesn’t say anything.

Levi sighs. “What, are you going to get on my ass about dealing now, too?” he asks. “I’m not selling Adderall to your classmates to make ends meet or anything- I haven’t had to do that since I before I was working at _The Ave Maria_ , your friends are getting their kicks from some other asshole with a fake diagnosis.”

“I’m taking Adderall.”

“What?” He questions Eren’s words before he really considers them, but the instant he meets his serious, determined gaze, pieces start falling into place.

“I’m on Adderall,” Eren repeats. “Well, not all the time, but I have to take it for my classes.”

Levi closes his eyes and sucks in a breath, shuffling the pieces of the puzzle into place. “The first time we met, you’d had a class the day before, and you either woke up late and took your meds late or you woke up early and had something with caffeine in it in the afternoon, am I right?”

Eren’s looking at him like he’s a fucking wizard. “I was up at like five in the morning finishing a paper and I grabbed a Red Bull to help me get through my afternoon class. How did you know that?”

Levi cringes, raising his hand to stop Eren from speaking. “When you stack caffeine on top of a stimulant, it extends and strengthens its release,” he explains tersely, “and when you stack it on top of a stimulant that’s already engineered to _have_ an extended release, you might just find yourself up at two in the fucking morning the next day, talking to strangers in a shitty diner.”

He’s staring. “How-”

“I never dealt anything I didn’t know everything there was to know about,” Levi snaps. “It’s bad for business. Don’t fucking go around chugging energy drinks when you’re on uppers, you’re going to make your heart explode or something.”

Eren looks both thoroughly chastised and thoroughly fascinated. “Have you ever tried it?”

He grimaces at the memory. “Once. Back then they didn’t make a habit of telling you that certain kinds of uppers can make you feel like the world is fucking ending if you happen to already feel a little like that some of the time, and it turns out that if you’re somebody who has issues with not being clean, you might just find yourself pulling out half your eyelashes and scrubbing at your scalp until it starts to bleed.” He studies Eren’s pained expression. “I’m not exactly in a hurry to repeat the experience.”

Eren leans his forehead in the crook of Levi’s neck again, but he doesn’t seem to be crying, a fact Levi is intensely grateful for.

“I don’t like to take mine,” he admits quietly. “They make me angry sometimes.”

Levi blinks, taken aback, and then _ahh_ s in comprehension. “You went to class this morning.”

Eren nods against his shoulder. “They make me notice stupid things, and then I start worrying about them, and then I get mad.”

Levi pats his back absentmindedly, reconstructing his growing image of Eren with some interest. “It’s called anxiety. Meds like yours can make it worse. It’s normal.”

Eren shakes his head, nose brushing against Levi’s collarbone. “I don’t like it.”

He laughs a little. “Who does?”

“I used to have anger problems. As a kid, I mean.”

Levi’s hand stills on Eren’s back. He scrutinizes the back of his head like it’ll help make sense of what Eren is trying to tell him.

Eren obliges him before he can decide how to ask.

“I remember feeling like I had something important to do,” he confesses, “but nobody understood, and nobody took me seriously, and I couldn’t remember what it was, so I’d get frustrated. I was just… pissed off all the time until I met Mikasa.” He sighs. His breath is warm against Levi’s bare skin. “It was like a switch flipped in my brain- for some reason, her being there made everything okay. I was always forgetting things and sometimes I couldn’t tell my daydreams apart from things that had really happened, but she didn’t mind, and I guess that made me feel like it was okay.”

Eren’s arms snake around his middle again, holding him tightly. Levi’s not entirely certain where to put his hands.

“I kind of get the impression that you think I’m this spoiled idiot who sucks at school but everybody likes anyway,” Eren continues, and Levi certainly can’t deny that, “and while the first part of that might be true, the second is sort of a new thing. I almost got expelled from high school for fighting. I wasn’t very good at making friends.”

“Sounds like it, Jesus,” Levi mutters, tracing the line of Eren’s spine where it sinks between the raised muscles of his back. “Any particular reason you’re sharing this with me?”

Eren raises his face again, but doesn’t lean away. His eyes are intense, as green as the grass at the height of summer against the reddened whites of his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like I don’t understand what it means to be a fuck up,” he whispers, and then smiles in a way that’s so broken and unhinged that Levi actually flinches away from it instinctively. “My dad is a doctor, and he spent years looking at me like I was his biggest failure. Maybe because he didn’t know how to fix me? I don’t know. But instead of kicking me out for getting somebody pregnant,” he laughs, “mine just fucking left, and I still don’t know why.”

Levi stares at him, at a loss for words.

For a moment, he’s afraid Eren’s going to cry again, but his expression just turns blank and stony in a way that reminds Levi uncomfortably of his homely-beautiful best- _‘My Mikasa, more sibling than companion’_ \- friend. “At least you had to fuck up to be unwanted.”

He wants to say something sympathetic, or at least, something that someone who isn’t a complete asshole all of the time would say, but what comes out of his mouth instead is,

“Please don’t put your fucking daddy issues on me.”

He’s not sure who he hates more- himself for saying it, or Eren for laughing as hard as he does.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi, actual functioning adult human male.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... kind of came out of left field. I didn't really expect to write this.

He wakes up too warm, nose pressed against something firm but giving.

A blink or two confirms his suspicions: Eren is cuddling him.

Aggressively.

He’s not opposed to the weight Eren’s arms around him- though he’s a little puzzled as to how Eren manage to worm the other one under him without waking him up, and he suspects there will be a whole lot of whining about numb hands once Eren wakes up- but it’s an unfamiliar sensation.

He considers slipping away, but forces his awkward arm up beneath his pillow and slings the other around Eren’s waist, instead.

He doesn’t have to work today. The kid’s probably not even awake, anyway.

He second-guesses that when he feels pressure on his scalp.

“Did you just kiss me on the fucking head?” he asks incredulously as he struggles to crane his chin upwards, voice still rough with sleep.

Eren laughs dreamily and presses his cheek against Levi’s forehead, arms tightening around him.

“Levi,” he mumbles.

“What?” Levi snaps, though he suspects where this is going.

“Levi,” Eren sighs again, and Levi grimaces.

“You are a creepy sack of shit when you’re asleep, Eren,” he tells him, and he can feel Eren’s cheeks stretch in a smile. “Well, at least I know you’re not dreaming about anybody else,” he drawls, and then wonders why it matters. _‘Why should I care if he does?’_

They hadn’t even gotten around to doing anything sexual the night before- they’d talked, extensively, and a lot of it had involved Levi berating Eren for misusing his medication, and Eren had fallen asleep mid-conversation, the hard lines of focus between his eyebrows softening.

He’s not sure when he fell asleep. Not too long after, he imagines- the last thing he remembers is watching Eren start to drool with a dozing thought of,

_‘Gross.’_

Against his better judgement, he closes his eyes and does it again.

***

The next few days are strange.

Come Monday, he expects Eren to text him, doesn’t bother to do it himself because he assumes that the end of his shift will find today’s inane comment or idiotic question waiting impatiently for his attention, and when it doesn’t happen on the first day, he’s only a little disconcerted.

It’s November. He vaguely recalls some of his younger co-workers mentioning in passing this incomplete essay and that half-finish project.

The staffroom has been awash in whispers of final exams looming on the horizon.

He hasn’t been listening, but he seems to have heard, nonetheless.

It’s unusual for Eren to go an entire day without texting him, but not entirely unprecedented. It’s November. He shrugs it off.

By the end of the second day, he’s starting to become a little irritated.

He debates initiating contact and decides against it. A voice inside of him whispers that it’s been a day, that he’s gone months with texting Erwin and never felt this way.

The implications of the urge alarm him, so he refrains.

By the third day, he’s openly aggravated, and his ire outweighs his fear of seeming pathetic.

_Did you fucking die? **– 18:02 (sent)**_

Immediately after sending it, he regrets it.

He sees poorly disguised petulance in his words and regrets them, sees impatience, even desperation in the promptness with which he chose to text him after his the end of his workday and regrets that, too.

He’s almost conceived of an appropriately mocking follow-up text to regret with equal toxicity when Eren finally replies.

**_New Message: Eren Jaeger_ **  
_no **– 18:04**_

He looks at the word blankly.

Just stands there in the middle if his apartment and stares at it.

His hands are shaking.

All at once he realizes that he is _livid_ and he hates that he is, hates that a part of him was genuinely worried for this kid and hates what it means that he needs reassurance that this absentminded boy hasn’t injured himself or worse.

He hates that worse isn’t something so pure as fearing that his silence was brought on by incapacitation, but the prospect of Eren having lost interest in him.

Levi never calls. It’s just not something he does. It’s bothersome and allows people to lie to him in ways that he can recognize without the necessary commitment of also having an equally accessible face that he can punch for doing it.

But his thumb punches the dial button with a fury that makes his screen jitter for a moment before complying, and he has to remind himself to inhale when it begins to ring.

When Eren picks up, he’s just begun to wonder if he’s overreacting.

Eren’s voice obliterates the thought from his mind.

_“…hello?”_

He sounds tired and confused, but not especially damaged.

“Hey,” Levi says coldly, and somehow, the audible sound of Eren sucking in a sharp breath only adds to his fury.

He doesn’t trust himself to say anything else.

_“Levi?”_

“No,” he bites out, “it’s the goddamn tooth fairy. I heard you were looking for some free fucking dentistry and came running over to punch your goddamn teeth out.”

He doesn’t realize that he’s trying to convince himself that he’s not just angry because it’s the alternative to being afraid until Eren doesn’t laugh, and then cold, awful panic washes up against the side of his rage.

Later, he will be grateful that Eren speaks before he can say something he regrets.

_“Can I see you?”_

His confusion stalls his fury but not his apprehension.

He asks “Why?” and flinches, because he can hear that it’s not the thirty-six year old Levi holding the phone who says it.

It’s the same sixteen year old Levi who once answered his first girlfriend’s

_“We need to talk,”_

in exactly the same way.

“There’s nothing you can’t tell me over the phone that you can tell me in person,” he snaps, because this is the lesson that sixteen year old Levi learned that summer afternoon: that it was impossible to hang up on a face-to-face conversation the same way, that physically walking away from pain and embarrassment wouldn’t stop the other person from calling after him, that no amount of stone-faced avoidance could stop those words from ringing in his ears for hours afterwards.

_“What?”_

Eren sounds genuinely confused, but it’s not the puzzlement he hears that breaks Levi out of his reverie.

It’s the laughing.

Eren _laughs_ at him.

There’s a beat of silence between his utterance and a barely audible snort, and then Eren starts making a sound halfway between giggling and snickering.

“Why are you laughing?” Levi demands, insulted. “Don’t fucking laugh at me after you’ve been ignoring me, I’ll kick the shit out of you-”

_“I’m coming over.”_

Levi doesn’t even have the chance to question that before the line goes dead against his ear.

He looks at his phone incredulously.

“I’ll kill him,” he tells it, “I’ll fucking kill him.”

***

By the time Eren knocks on his door, he’s remembered the other reason why he hates doing this in person:

He’s not very patient.

The wait is agonizing, and in the ten minutes it takes for Eren to hang up and arrive on his doorstep, Levi has twisted himself in furious knots trying to decide if it’s more worth it to pretend he’s not home or just beat the absolute hell out of a nineteen year old and then skip town and hope the assault charges don’t follow him.

He’s still hesitating when Eren knocks a second time.

“Levi, I know you’re in there,” he calls through the door, and Levi fists his hands in his hair with a silent curse.

He’s still thinking _‘maybe I should just book it down the fire escape and not have to deal with this bullshit at all’_ when he unlocks and cracks open the door.

Giving credit where credit is due, Eren has his forearms raised defensively, but the instant his eyes register that Levi is not, in fact, making an obvious move to assault him, he shoves the door open and shoulders his way in.

Levi’s about to object when Eren’s arms close around him tightly.

He is very, very confused.

He stumbles under the added weight, grabbing at Eren’s waist to steady himself, but Eren makes no move to release him.

If anything, his arms only wind tighter around Levi’s shoulders.

“Okay,” Levi interjects uncomfortably, “what the fuck is happening right now?”

“I missed you,” Eren whispers, and Levi punches him in the gut, knocking him back with a gasp.

Another suspicion is forming in his mind, and it almost makes him angrier than the first because he doesn’t like how relieving a part of him finds it. “If this was some sort of bullshit test, Eren, I swear to god-” He’s willing to bet good money that the blond cashier he met the other day is responsible for putting the idea in Eren’s head. He seems like the type.

Eren blinks, still holding his midsection. “What?” he asks breathlessly. “No, I- I’m just going through some shit right now and I didn’t want to bother you-”

“Yeah? Well, you fucking bothered me,” Levi growls, pacing down the hall with his shoulders hunched around his ears. He’s not even sure where he’s going. He’s just sort of _going_.

He can hear Eren’s footsteps trotting faithfully behind his, and he stops suddenly, bracing for the expected impact.

It comes, but rather than retreating, Eren just drapes himself over him, arms descending around his chest and chin weighing on the top of his head like Levi isn’t half a breath away from murdering him.

Levi elbows him sharply in the ribs. Despite his pained hiss, Eren doesn’t let go.

He crosses his arms and stares at the mushroom grey apartment wall, stewing in displeasure.

Eren’s arms are warm and adoring and he wants to hate him enough to break them for touching him but can’t quite manage anything more malevolent than petulant and unresisting silence.

Eren sounds like he’s smiling when he speaks.

“You’re pissed at me, huh?”

Levi says nothing.

Eren squeezes him lightly, leaning more of his weight into the hug. “You missed me,” he murmurs, and he sounds so giddy that Levi could kill him, could honestly break his legs and throw him out the window, but he just hunches further into himself instead.

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” Eren mumbles into his hair, and his whole body twitches when Levi jerks his elbow backwards menacing.

“Do I look fucking worried to you?” he snarls, and Eren actually has the gall to _laugh_.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I’m just really happy right now. I know you’re pissed, but it’s a weirdly good thing.”

Levi shifts, grunting under Eren’s weighty affection. “Oh, you fucking figure?” His anger is dulling its edge against Eren’s sheer pleasure, and he doesn’t like the underlying layer of mortification that’s creeping up on him.

“Yeah,” Eren says softly, squeezing him again. “It’s really good to feel needed right now.”

“You’re not needed.” He feels Eren stiffen behind him, and he knows that he’s misunderstood, but he’s too disgruntled and humiliated to care. “I don’t need you, Eren.”

His back is cold where Eren’s chest has begun to pull away from it.

He knows better than to turn around, knows without looking that Eren’s expression would break him.

“Levi?”

The way his voice cracks uncertainly on his name is just as lethal as looking would have been, and Levi curses him and curses himself and curses everything because now he feels embarrassed _and_ guilty.

“Babies _need_ their mothers,” Levi mutters, “people _need_ to eat and breathe and shit, I don’t _need_ you, Eren.” He hates this. He hates that his voice sounds like he’s confessing to a crime. “There’s nothing fucking desirable about being needed.” He considers the fact that he should probably just shut up while his dignity is still intact, but he doesn’t. “It’s when somebody _wants_ you but doesn’t _need_ to keep your stupid ass around that you should get worked up about it.” Eren makes a little sound of comprehension and Levi sinks even further into himself, tucking his chin against his chest. “It’s not that fucking complicated, you simple-minded piece of shit.”

Levi can _hear_ the goofy grin Eren is wearing. “I kind of wanna kiss you right now. A lot.”

“No,” Levi refuses flatly, and Eren laughs, straining enough to land his lips on the skin beside Levi’s nose.

It’s wet. Levi grimaces and turns his face away.

“I like you a lot,” Eren announces. Levi snorts and rolls his shoulder, trying to better distribute Eren’s hanging weight.

“And I tolerate you, though how is a mystery to even fucking _me_ ,” Levi grouses, earning a satisfyingly indignant squawk in response.

Eren’s laugh is a _whuff_ of warm air against Levi’s neck, and he squirms away from it, cringing at the sensation. “Man, you must make a fucking terrible boyfriend.”

Levi grimaces again. “You have no idea.”

He doesn’t know how he didn’t anticipate Eren’s next words.

After everything, they shouldn’t be more surprising than his shy, hopeful tone.

“I’d like to, though.”

Levi closes his eyes.

***

_I’m so fucked. **– 19:10 (sent)**_

**_New Message: Erwin Smith_ ** _  
I always look forward to conversations with you starting with that sentence, Levi. They make me wish I’d never quit gambling. **– 19:15**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carla's Wonder Woman and Armin's a national goddamn treasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short update, I apologize- I kept trying to add to it, but my writing instincts objected that that stuff is supposed to go into the next chapter.

As it turns out, what Eren has been dealing with is the progression of his mother’s new relationship.

Levi dimly remembers Eren telling him that his parents are divorced, and he certainly remembers the fresher knowledge that Eren’s father abandoned them, but Eren is a decently well-adjusted kid with a reasonable respect for authority and, as far as he knows, a passing grade in college, so he has a decent idea of what his mother must be like.

Strong. Resourceful. Flexible, to a degree, but probably stubborn, like Eren himself- a woman who values choice as long as it respects the constraints of discipline.

He looks at Eren and thinks, for some reason, that he probably looks like her. He can imagine a mother who looks like Eren, stern but loving, a mother who raised a child like Eren, tired but endlessly determined.

Eren’s mother has a boyfriend- has had a boyfriend, Eren tells him, for several years now. Maybe two, maybe five- Eren doesn’t know and Levi doesn’t care.

But until now, he’s been a distant fixture in Eren’s life- someone who makes his mother smile without trying too hard to be Eren’s father, which Eren says he prefers. Until now, his mother’s boyfriend has been a sub-clause in the sentence of their relationship.

On Monday morning, Eren’s mother had called him with very important news.

He tells Levi that he has no idea how to feel about his mother moving in with her boyfriend.

Tells him that on one hand, he’s happy for her, because she deserves to be taken care of, deserves to be loved and doted on.

Tells him that on the other hand, he feels like he’s losing the only source of stability in his life.

They’re going to sell the house.

The house is going to be _gone_.

It doesn’t matter that his mother assures him they’re setting aside a room for him in the new house- it’s not _his_ room. It’s not the room he expects to come home to- not even the _home_ he expects to come home to.

He misses his mother, but feels like an intrusion into her new life.

Levi sighs both because he understands where Eren’s coming from and because he selfishly doesn’t want to devote the energy necessary to a conversation that will probably end with Eren crying.

“I’m a shitty person to come to for comfort, Eren,” he tells him flatly, but Eren just smiles at him, leaning his cheek on his shoulder in an adoring way that makes Levi simultaneously breathless and nauseous.

 _‘What the actual fuck,’_ he thinks for the thousandth time as Eren fumbles for his hand, _‘am I doing?’_

**_New Message: Erwin Smith_ **   
_Dating a teenager, apparently. I’m a little impressed that he hasn’t gotten sick of you yet. **– 22:34**_

_Fuck off. **– 22:36 (sent)**_

***

It’s that fucking blond kid again.

He’s the only cashier available, so Levi has two options: buy his shit and deal with any comments he might choose to make, or decide that he doesn’t really need to eat all the badly despite having nothing but condiments and dry pasta in his kitchen.

It is, as always, Eren’s fault.

He dumps his purchase on the conveyer belt with a sigh, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“How are you doing tonight?” the blond- _‘Armin’_ \- asks him politely, and he looks up, a little surprised by the sudden professionalism.

He identifies why almost immediately: the kid’s manager is at the customer service desk two cashes over, speaking on the phone.

He eyes Armin with amusement. “Better now that you can’t say shit to me,” he drawls, sure to speak quietly enough that the man on the phone won’t hear him- he’s not quite cruel enough to get the kid in trouble on purpose.

Armin’s smile is visibly manufactured in a way that clearly expresses how unimpressed he is by Levi’s attitude. “Do you have a points card with us, sir?”

His voice is bizarrely loud, and Levi’s smirk falters. “What? I’ve been here for a month and a fucking half, of course I don’t have a goddamn points card,” he mutters. He realizes, belatedly and with a sinking feeling, that Armin took his debit card from his hand when he was distracted and is now holding it hostage.

“There are a number of benefits to signing up, sir,” Armin tells him brightly, and Levi’s gut sinks further as he notices his manager hanging up and looking interestedly in their direction.

“I’m, uh,” he starts, “I’m really not interested in signing up for a points card, kid, I just want my fucking groceries-”

“I see Armin here is telling you about our rewards program,” a practiced voice says to his left, and Levi clenches his jaw in frustration. “I assure you, sir, it’s a worthwhile program, and it costs you nothing to become a member. And it only takes a minute of your time!”

Armin’s self-satisfied smile looks so invitingly breakable that it takes Levi a great deal of self-control to refrain from swinging.

***

“I hate your friend.”

Eren looks surprised. He’s still stuffing his books into his bag. “What?” he asks, visibly confused, and then his features brighten with sudden realization. “You picked me up from class.”

Levi shoves his hands in his pockets, disgruntled. “The blond one, Armin, he’s a real piece of shit.”

Eren’s smile wavers uncertainly. “I’m not going to stop being friends with him, if that’s what-”

“Oh course not,” Levi snaps as he takes Eren’s bag from him absentmindedly. He regrets it as soon as he realizes what he’s done. “I’m just letting you know that I don’t like him.”

Eren laughs lightly, bumping shoulders with him playfully. “That’s right, he works at the grocery store near you, doesn’t he? I think he mentioned seeing you there. What’d he do, make you sign up for the store card?”

“Yes,” Levi mumbles.

Eren laughs so loudly that the other students in the hallway turn to look.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Worst Love Story: now with significantly more Hanji Zoë.

Levi’s gradually come to accept that Eren will always approach kissing with the same mentality he does everything else in his life: with the ironclad conviction that the right amount of determination can overcome any lack of ability or finesse.

For someone so obviously capable of making gains through sheer effort alone, Eren is, unfortunately, an innately terrible kisser.

He’s marginally better than when they started, but only because now when they begin, he remembers that Levi prefers- or rather, _demands_ \- that he refrain from slobbering all over his face.

Unfortunately, the instant he becomes excited, he reverts to a basic state of wilfully attempting to absorb Levi into himself via his mouth.

Levi scrubs the back of his hand across his lips, groaning. “Eren-”

“I’m sorry,” Eren apologizes promptly, genuinely contrite. “I just get really, uh,” he mumbles and then just sort of wiggles excitedly like that’s an acceptable way to end that sentence, which Levi supposes it is, because he does, somehow, know what Eren’s trying to say.

“I know,” he sighs, dragging the underside of a wrist down his cheek and grimacing. “You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute, Eren.” He catches Eren watching him as he rubs his soiled wrist compulsively against the outside seam of his jeans and suddenly feels oppressively self-conscious. “What?”

Eren reaches for Levi’s face with an oddly concentrated expression and Levi jerks back to avoid it, catching himself on his elbow to prevent himself from falling backwards onto the bed.

Eren is looking at his fingers with an uncertain expression. “Levi,” he starts, “do you think my hands are dirty?”

Levi just stares at him, dry-mouthed. “That’s a hell of a question.”

Eren’s gaze is unwavering.

Levi can feel something resistant in the inner corner of his eye and digs at it with the knuckle of his thumb before realizing that someone else would’ve done it with fingertip or nail.

He doesn’t like noticing these things. He doesn’t like that Eren is noticing these things. He doesn’t like this.

Levi drags his teeth against the inside of his lower lip, not sure if he feels or is just imagining the drag of dry skin against them but unable to stop himself from worrying at it, regardless. “I don’t really know what you want me to say, Eren.”

Eren’s face isn’t pitying or incredulous, just focused and unreadable, and somehow that’s worse, because Levi knows how to respond to pity or confusion or disdain but not to whatever it is that’s lurking beside Eren’s serious eyes.

“It’s worse today,” he says simply, dropping his hands into his lap, and Levi doesn’t fail to notice that he didn’t say,

_“You’re worse today,”_

which means something very different.

“A little bit,” Levi begrudges, rubbing his cheek against his wrist and his wrist against his jeans again and then frowning. His skin is starting to blotch unevenly from the friction.

“What can I do?”

For a long moment, he’s speechless. “What?”

“What can I do?” Eren repeats slowly and carefully, like he’s speaking to a child.

Levi opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “What do you mean, what can you do?” he asks, baffled.

Eren edges forward towards him and then stops, looking at him inquisitively. “I wanna touch you but it’s making you weird,” he asserts, “So what can I do to make it not make you weird?”

Everything feels remarkably surreal. He’s not sure how to feel about this. “I don’t know,” he mumbles, more empty with shock than he is actively confused. “Nobody’s ever asked me that.”

Eren edges closer to him again. “But then- how does that normally work?” He sounds confused.

“It doesn’t.” Eren blinks at his sudden hostility. “I don’t really do people, Eren, and when I do, most of the time I end up telling them to back off and one of two things happens,” he admits, “either they back off and we end up sitting there watching fucking reruns and making awkward conversation until I get them to leave or they don’t back off and I punch them, kick their ass out and take a shower.”

“Do you want to take a shower together?” Eren doesn’t say it in a particularly suggestive way. His eyes tell Levi that he means it.

He’s being sincere.

“It’s eight o’clock at night, Eren.” He questions Eren out of obligation rather than actual concern, increasingly puzzled.

Eren just shrugs, smiling and leaning towards him like he can make up for the lack of contact by lessening the distance between them.

“So?”

***

Eren accepts it without question when he washes his hands after washing his feet, and Levi realizes with a thrill of conflicted pleasure that he’s imitating him when he does the same.

Eren doesn’t comment or question, and it makes Levi feel very strange.

He’s almost not bothered by the fact that Eren has to lean down to kiss him.

He minds Eren’s sloppiness less under the spray of the showerhead- the warm air and hot water mean that it blends with the rest of the pervasive wetness, that he can’t feel it drying on his skin and beginning to itch.

Eren holds his face in his hands and murmurs something, too quiet for Levi to hear it over the hiss of the shower, but he feels the shapes of the words against his lips and doesn’t ask Eren to repeat them, because he’s not ready.

He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready.

Two months ago, he was certain he never would, but now, he’s just not sure.

The realization terrifies him.

***

**_New Message: Erwin Smith_ **  
_He said he loved you and you’re not halfway to the state border yet? I suppose miracles do happen. **– 22:34**_

_Go fuck yourself. I’m still not sure that’s what he said, and I’m sure as hell not going to ask. **– 22:34 (sent)**_

_Levi, you dated one of our servers for three weeks and then demanded I not schedule you with her because she asked you offhand if you’d ever thought about wanting children. **– 22:35**_  
 _You know exactly what he said. **– 22:35**_

_I hope you have kids and they all turn out exactly like me. **– 22:35 (sent)**_

_I don’t think you’ve ever said something so harsh to me, Levi. **– 22:35**_  
 _I’m almost flattered. **– 22:36**_

***

He’s rapidly familiarizing himself with Eren’s campus- at first, it seemed like an illogical sprawl of new and old buildings, but now he can name at least a third of them and identify the faculties associated with more than half.

He doesn’t know the name of this building, but he knows that it’s the History building, because he once made the mistake of accompanying Eren around the campus between his classes and discovered that Eren is in the habit of greeting his friend Armin, a history major, after his mid-afternoon class ends on that particular weekday.

The History building is, according to Eren, also home to the late assignment drop box for one of his professors.

Levi does not comment on the late part of the assignment, but does assure Eren that he’s probably going to fail anyway and that it’s a miracle he has anything to hand in at all.

They’re turning to leave when someone shouts.

“Excuse me!” It’s a breathless voice, winded in a way that Levi recognizes: this is someone who forgets to breathe between sentences. “Excuse me, you two, wait!”

Eren stops and turns to look, and only then does he do the same.

Tall. Slim. Medium brown hair leaning towards auburn. Thick, unusual glasses, secured by a tough-looking band rather than a pair of arms.

An immediate assumption is made in Levi’s brain, and it’s one he can neither dismiss nor explain.

This person- this _they_ , a something, a someone that his mind has decided is unquestionably _other_ \- is breathing heavily when they catch up, and he watches them lean on their knees for support with a nagging sense of familiarity.

They stand up so suddenly that he doesn’t have time to reflect on it.

“I know you,” they announce, sounding almost aggressively excited, “I mean, I don’t _know_ you, we’re never met, but I _know_ you. Both of you.”

Levi’s grudging curiosity dissipates amidst a rising wave of incredulity. “Because that makes a lot of fucking sense,” he drawls, and they turn their head so sharply that he begins to suspect the reason behind their glasses having a head strap.

Eren shushes him distractedly, looking, much to Levi’s dismay, distinctly interested. “What do you mean?”

Their smile is huge and manic and Levi feels exhausted just looking at it. “I know your name,” they insist, steepling their fingers in front of their nose and then pointing at him. “Aaron, right?”

Levi snorts, already starting to turn away when Eren responds.

“Er- _en_ ,” he corrects encouragingly, emphasizing the soft ‘ _e_ ’ with a smiling voice. “That’s really good!”

Levi grunts. “Get a grip, shit for brains. This asshole probably just overheard us talking,” he snipes.

“Impossible, I was on the fourteenth floor when I saw you coming in!” they protest, and he can almost feel the weight of their intense stare on the side of his face. “You, I know your name, too.”

He eyes Eren wearily. “Did you really run down fourteen flights of stairs in a building that has elevators just to bother a couple of strangers?” he sighs, a little confused by his own thought of,

_‘Just typical.’_

He can see their sudden grin out of the corner of his eye. “It’s good exercise and I couldn’t afford to miss you!” they insist, edging forward eagerly. Levi edges back in distaste. “You, your name is… Leo? No. Leon?”

Levi rolls his eyes and grabs Eren by the shoulder. “This is a waste of time,” he mutters, ignoring Eren’s sound of protest.

He counts three steps before they scream,

_“LEVI!”_

behind him, adding “Your name is Levi,” in a triumphant whisper.

A shiver crawls up his spine and over his scalp like an onslaught of insects. He tries to keep walking, but Eren has stopped dead.

Levi doesn’t want to look, because he knows what expression Eren is making.

He’s right.

Eren’s eyes are wide with interest and wonder, the wandering intensity of his expression focused sharply on a singular point behind him.

Levi groans.

“Professor Zoë of the History department,” they introduce eagerly, speed walking closer with an outstretched hand that Eren takes and Levi just stares at in displeasure. “I specialize in the Great Titan War, specifically the dissolution of the Three Walls,” they explain, suddenly crisp and professional, but only for a moment. “How did the initial emergence of the titans occur? Who built the Three Walls? How did humanity defeat the beings that had wiped out most of the planet’s population? Why do no answers to these questions still remain? Did the remaining population make a pact of nondisclosure? _Why are researchers banned from studying the site of the Three Walls?!”_ By the end of this tirade, they’re almost yelling, but most of the students emerging from the History building look remarkably unfazed. “These are the questions that keep me up at night.”

Levi frowns. “I don’t really want to know what you think about when you’re lying in bed at night, you four-eyed turd,” he growls. “Eren, can we-”

“I thought the Three Walls were off-limits because they were radioactive or something,” Eren says curiously, ignoring him.

He can _hear_ Zoë’s enthusiasm.

“That’s what they tell us,” Zoë says conspiratorially, “but I’ve found no evidence to support that assertion, and the one time I got close enough to test before being removed from the grounds, I was unable to detect any radioactivity with _any_ of my instruments.”

Eren’s leaning forward, thoroughly engrossed in their paranoid whispering. “I’d like to hear more.”

Levi groans again, this time more pointedly.

Zoë’s delight manifests as a raucous hoot. “Come to my office, both of you,” they insist, yelling “ _Sasha!_ ” over their shoulder before stopping, confused. “Oh right, I left her upstairs. My assistant, I mean. She’s probably eating my lunch by now, come to think of it,” they muse, and then pat their belly with another hooting laugh. “She keeps me on my toes.”

Levi eyes their manic smile and Eren’s intense expression and just sighs.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mad professors and movie theaters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended there to be more... you know, plot progression in this chapter, which would have involved more Sasha and Hanji, but this happened instead.
> 
> Also, I am certain that, put in a world with abundant consumables, Sasha would be chubby and love every goddamn second of it. Nobody can convince me otherwise.

Sasha turns out to be a constantly-smiling, rather round figure of a girl who has, in fact, eaten her Professor’s lunch.

Zoë turns out to be exactly the kind of incessantly jabbering lunatic Levi had suspected they were.

Eren starts to see things his way after three hours pass and he finally realizes that they weren’t even close to finished talking.

By this point, Levi has heard so much excited speculation about titans that he hates them with the same fervency he reserves for songs that play incessantly on the radio and parents who make no effort to silence their wailing broods of repugnant children.

By the time they escape, the sun has set.

Eren’s apologizing.

“-it really was interesting, they’re just, um-”

“Somebody who shits with their mouth instead of their ass?” Levi snaps, exhausted. “When I said I’d meet you after your class, this was not what I had in mind, Eren.”

Eren’s smile is pathetically hopeful. “I’ll make it up to you,” he soothes, nudging his fingers against the side of Levi’s hand inquisitively.

Levi considers denying him out of irritation rather than actual discomfort, but the fact that Eren has progressed from absentmindedly grabbing his hand to asking first is a little heady in a way he finds quite alarming.

He reaches for Eren’s hand without looking, annoyed anew when it’s not where he thought it would be.

He looks over and Eren is wiping his palm surreptitiously on his jeans. Eren shoots him an apologetic little smile. “Sorry,” he says, slipping his hand into Levi’s and lacing their fingers together.

Levi looks down at the tangle between them and Eren squeezes, bumping his shoulder with a grin.

He strokes a thumb down the side of Eren’s palm.

This is not something he lets Eren do often, and it’s nothing he can do for long- once their palms begin to sweat, his hand begins to itch and the experience becomes unbearable.

And Eren’s height means that he has to bend his elbow to do it, which makes him feel like a child walking with an adult.

And people look at them. Levi fucking hates that. People need to mind their own goddamn business and stop giggling at his.

But for now, Eren’s obvious giddiness and the relative emptiness of this area of the campus are enough to keep them intertwined.

“So what do you want to do?” Eren asks eagerly, squeezing his hand again. “I mean, you don’t have work tomorrow, right?”

Levi grunts. “You have class.”

“Yeah, but attendance isn’t mandatory.”

Levi fixes him with a meaningful stare. Eren squirms.

He tries to summon the energy and general decency to refuse what’s he being offered, but the fact of the matter is he doesn’t consider Eren’s grades to be his problem- they’re Eren’s problem, and it’s Eren who’s offering.

He sighs, finally disentangling their fingers with a small grimace. “I hope you have something in mind, because I’m not a terribly fucking exciting date.”

He isn’t, and he knows it.

Levi knows that he will always drink at the same bars, eat at the same restaurants, and shop in the same stores if he’s given the option. It’s part of why he’s resigned himself to putting up with Eren’s friend from the pharmacy and supermarket- he doesn’t really _do_ change that isn’t fucking off to an entirely new city.

Once he’s settled, he sets himself a map of all the places he gives a shit about it, and anything else can meet the wrecking ball, for all he cares.

Eren, in contrast, talks often about places that exist only as names and concepts in Levi’s apathetic mind, locations Eren has visited and will visit again, spaces Levi just won’t ever get around to looking up on a map.

“Let’s see a movie.”

Levi blinks. “That’s the same shit we always do.” It’s not a protest, just a statement of fact.

Eren’s grin is a little sly. “No, I mean, let’s _see a movie_ ,” he repeats, like it’s supposed to mean something.

He just sort of looks at him for a moment. “In a theater?”

Eren nods, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. “Yeah.”

“I’m just going to go ahead and assume that, as per fucking usual, you’re not actually imagining anything that involves either of us watching a goddamn movie,” he murmurs drily, raising an eyebrow. “What the fuck is it with teenagers and necking in the back row?”

Eren laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and lightly bumping Levi’s shoulder with his own again. “You don’t want to?”

Levi sighs, debating how much he can deal with today. “In theory,” he starts, “it’s fine, because I don’t exactly give a shit about making people uncomfortable as long as there aren’t kids around.” Eren’s face looks far too optimistic. “But,” he continues, “the actual _theater_ is kind of a problem for me.”

Eren’s obvious confusion makes him feel very tired. He glances up. They’re only halfway to his house. He doesn’t remember the campus taking so long to cross.

“There are a few theaters we could go to,” Eren tries. His voice tells Levi that he knows he’s not quite understanding something.

“I’m not talking about a specific theater, Eren,” Levi mutters darkly, “it’s _all_ theaters. Theaters are disgusting cesspits as a rule. I’ve never seen one that didn’t have sticky floors and suspicious stains on the upholstery. Fucking repulsive.”

He expects Eren’s strangled bark of laughter, but it still annoys him. “They’re not that bad,” he chokes.

Levi grimaces at him. “Eren, do you think you’re the first teenager to want to fool around in public?” he asks bitterly. “Do you know why teenagers go on movie dates? Because it’s a dark room they can spend two hours alone in without worrying about their parents walking in.” Eren opens his mouth, but Levi interrupts him. “Unless the place opened fucking _yesterday_ , there’s not in a seat in there that some pimple-faced little shit who doesn’t know how to put on deodorant or wipe his own asshole hasn’t made a mess of,” he snaps.

Eren makes a sharp noise and grabs Levi’s sleeve. “Would you go to a theater that _did_ open yesterday?” he demands, visibly excited, and then pauses contemplatively. “Well, the day before yesterday, I think, but still-”

Levi raises his hands defensively, furrowing his eyebrows. “Eren, there’s not going to be a-”

“It’s called _Silver Screens_ or something, it’s a couple blocks down and across from _The Black And Tan_ , I think,” he presses eagerly, “Armin told me they had a pretty bad fire last year and they’re just reopening now, there’s new seats and everything, there’s, uh, I-” Levi is still standing with his palms raised, a little overwhelmed by Eren’s enthusiasm. “…do you want to go?”

His tone is so painfully hopeful that Levi can’t bring himself to refuse. “You’re sure it only reopened a couple of days ago?” he begrudges, and Eren’s smile is back in full force.

“If it didn’t, we can turn around and leave,” Eren assures him, trying to look serious and failing because Levi can _see_ how pleased he is with himself- he’s almost shaking.

Levi sighs again, turning his face away to fight the infectiousness of Eren’s smile in relative privacy.

“I’d ask you what it is you want to see,” he drawls, “but I don’t think you really give a shit about that.”

***

The last time Levi screwed around with someone in a movie theater, he was fifteen.

It was also the first time he’d done it.

They’d sat in the middle two seats of the second-last row to watch an unpopular movie he didn’t pay attention to and doesn’t remember the title of, just vague unimportant snatches of conversation that had found their way into his ears past the panting murmurs of the girl he’d been with. He doesn’t remember her name, but he remembers that she’d been wearing red underwear under a red skirt because it had bothered him for reasons he couldn’t quite place- they’d been different shades of red.

There’d been a middle-aged man sitting halfway down to the aisle, to the left, and a trio of noisy girls a little lower down, to the right. The man left halfway through. The girls stayed until the end. He’s still not sure they ever noticed.

The girl with the red underwear had been flirting with him for months, and he hadn’t told her that his family was leaving the next week.

He never did tell her.

She’d sat on his lap and tried to take off his shirt, and that was the moment he’d realized he wouldn’t enjoy it.

He’d done it anyway, lifting the armrests and laying her down on her back on the seats, which he’s sure she found daring and- god help him- maybe even romantic, but he’d done it to put her between himself and the stained fabric below. They’d done it with their clothes on because he told her they had to be able to run if they got caught and he saw that she thought he’d done this before, that he was dangerous and experienced, but the truth was just that he didn’t want his bare skin touching anything more than it strictly had to.

He’d barely shoved his pants down enough to allow it, and he’d known that his belt buckle was pressing into her thigh in a way that couldn’t be comfortable.

She never did say anything about that, and he was grateful, but not as grateful as he was that she’d worn a skirt. If he loved her for anything, it was for that skirt, mismatched with her underwear as it may have been, and he’d told her so.

He knew she’d thought it was because it made things easier, meant that he could push it up her thighs and pull her underwear to the side, but he loved that skirt because it had made another barrier, because meant it meant that there was no chance of coming into contact with the seat beneath her ass, and that alone was probably the reason he’d managed to come.

But he’d been right: he hadn’t enjoyed it.

There had been too many smells, musty and perfumed and rancid, too many sticky surfaces and crunchy fibres, too many oily handrails and greasy fingerprints on the glass displays of the concession stand.

There had just been too _much_.

He walks up to the ticket counter of the _Silver Screenings_ already expecting the worst and unable to stop himself for doing it.

He considers for a moment that he might not be able to convince himself that anything here is clean even if it is, and flinches internally at the prospect of Eren’s disappointment.

But then there’s a hand-labelled spray bottle- _‘Vinegar 1:10 not for glass DO NOT TAKE,’_ Levi reads, somewhat amused- and a roll of paper towel resting on the unattended silver counter.

He suddenly realizes that the theater is quieter than he expected.

And by quiet, he means empty.

The girl who he assumes is supposed to be responsible for ticket sales is leaning on the concession stand and talking to an equally idle boy when they come in, and she dashes over to them as soon as she notices that they’re waiting, whisking the cleaning products out of sight with a mumbled apology.

He suddenly realizes several things at once.

The carpet is so new that the stands they’re using to support the rope barrier haven’t even worn discernable dents in it yet, and the result is a meandering line of round silver bases- the third one is farther out than it should be, but it’s only visible when the barrier is looked at from the side.

He can still see marks left by the industrial vacuum they used to clean the floors- there are huge swathes of carpet fibres that have been pushed in one direction but not walked on enough to be disturbed.

One of the glass doors is so clean that it’s almost invisible aside from the glare of reflected light, and the other is slightly streaked in places, made faintly opalescent by product residue- someone wiped down it without stopping to ensure that it was properly dried.

The ticket counter was made with exactly the same kind of false chrome finish that people never seem to learn their lesson about putting in a public setting, and it hasn’t been dulled enough by use to disguise where it’s been touched- when the employee lifts her hand from the counter to tuck an escaping curl behind her ear, she leaves behind a perfect handprint, dim enough to tell him that it’s just oil and sweat and not a truly unfortunate amount of transferred popcorn butter.

“I just wanted to ask,” Eren is mumbling beside him as he stares at the handprint on the counter, “if it’s true that you guys only reopened a couple days ago?”

“They did,” he answers absentmindedly, barely registering the employee’s look of surprise in his direction. “Why is it so empty in here?”

The girl blinks, shoving back the same errant piece of hair as before. “It’s coming up on exam season,” she explains, her hand coming back down on the counter in a slightly different way than it had before, distorting her previous handprint. “Plus we’re not the closest to campus and we have no new releases yet, so anybody who’s going is going somewhere else,” she laughs. “Why’d you decide to come here? Just come in to check it out?”

He can see that Eren is looking at him from the periphery of his vision. “No, we’re here to see something,” he murmurs, tucking his hands in his pockets.

Even without looking, he can tell that Eren’s smile is fucking blinding. He’s not really paying attention to their conversation, responding to Eren’s question about what he wants to watch with a noncommittal grunt as he fishes out his phone.

**_New Message: Erwin Smith_ **  
_You haven’t texted me in two days, Levi. I’m starting to wonder if I should be concerned. **– 18:04**_

_I’m seeing a movie. **– 22:24 (sent)**_

He dimly registers Eren stepping to the side and moves towards the counter himself.

“Levi, you coming?”

He pauses, hand halfway to his pocket. “What?”

Eren is looking at him impatiently. “I got you, let’s go,” he urges.

Levi just sort of looks at him. “I haven’t bought my ticket.”

“I said I _got_ you, they’re paid for, now come on,” Eren groans, doubling back to tug on his sleeve. The girl at the counter is giggling a little. “Are you texting Erwin?”

“Why did you pay for me? You’re already knee-deep in fucking pigshit debt,” he asks, genuinely confused, belatedly remembering to glance down at his phone. The screen is lit. “And yeah, why?”

Eren’s talking as he trails after him. He’s not really listening.

**_New Message: Erwin Smith_ **  
_I assume you don’t mean you’ve been trapped in a movie theater for two days. **– 22:24**_  
 _Before I tell you to turn your phone off and pretend to watch the movie like everyone else, I feel compelled to point out that you refused to attend the staff’s monthly movie nights for over two years with the reasoning that, and I quote, “Movie theaters are the unholy offspring of strip clubs and public toilets.” **– 22:25**_  
 _I seem to remember you feeling quite strongly about that. **– 22:25**_

_This one’s okay. It burnt down. I’m here with Eren. **– 22:25 (sent)**_

_The number of questions you can raise in only ten words is astounding, Levi. **– 22:26**_

“- _Levi_!”

His phone disappears from his fingers. Eren looks aggravated.

“Can you not text while we’re on a date?” he sighs.

Levi frowns at him. He’s pretty sure he intends to say something intelligent, or at least, something that’s not exactly what he says, which is, “We’re on a date?”

Eren just looks at him.

He looks back.

The guy working the concession stand is laughing so hard that he’s turned around to hide it. His shoulders are shaking.

“Yes, Levi, we’re on a date,” Eren enunciates slowly and carefully, like he’s speaking to a child instead of a thirty-six year old man. “Turn off your fucking phone before I chuck it in a urinal.”

He does.

***

Eren’s already kissing him by the time the previews are over, leaning over the armrest between them to slide his hand under Levi’s shirt.

The theater is empty, the lights dimmed, the seats unstained, the floor inoffensive, and the armrests fixed and immovable, much to Eren’s very vocal dismay.

Undistracted, he can almost see the appeal. There’s a certain childish, exhibitionistic excitement to be had in it.

It’s not especially comfortable- the seats fold up when not in use, so when he shifts, hips lifting slightly off of the seat as moves into an awkward half-sitting lean against the back of his chair to spare Eren the indignity of doubling over the plastic cup holder, he finds his ass enclosed in a disconcerting _‘v’_ of fabric.

He grunts in disgust and Eren laughs. He tugs on Eren’s hair and Eren moans.

The movie starts with a startlingly loud bang and their teeth clash together painfully.

Levi falls back into his seat, swearing and squinting in the direction of the screen. “What the fuck are we watching?”

“I don’t really know,” Eren admits, wiping his mouth absentmindedly. “Something with Willem Dafoe, I think? The girl who sold me the tickets said it was good.”

***

In a fit of cosmic irony, they discover that the movie is, in fact, quite good.

So good, in fact, that when the lights go up and the credits start to roll, Eren looks at him and suddenly swears. “It’s _over,_ ” he curses.

Levi blinks, confused for a moment, and then barks with laughter. “I think maybe you shouldn’t have picked such a good movie, Eren,” he drawls, and Eren groans, frustrated.

“I was hoping-” he grunts, kicking the seat in front of him. “Fuck,” he asserts eloquently, sinking down into seat with a put out expression. “Sorry.”

Levi snorts, crossing his arms on the armrest.

“Are you still planning on skipping class tomorrow?”

Eren’s look of surprise is worth everything.

They’re halfway to Levi’s apartment when he remembers to turn his phone on.

**_New Message: Erwin Smith_ **  
_You seem determined to deny me the satisfaction of answering my questions, Levi. **– 22:28**_  
 _I hope you’re enjoying the newly refurbished Silver Screenings. It seems as though they could use the business. **– 23:42**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to say about this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sasha. She's possibly my favourite character in all of SnK.

He tastes it in those rare moments in which they’re not rushing along at a pace set by Eren’s impatience, in the breaths he draws between kisses when they’re touching but not seeking, in the dryness of his mouth when their caresses are lingering, exploratory instead of purposeful.

In these moments, Levi tastes something sour, breathes it in without meaning to and smells memories behind his tongue.

Like the alcoholic sting of his father’s aftershave or the heady sharpness of wood smoke, it carries a certain familiarity, but it’s one he can’t quite place.

At first, he thinks it’s Eren’s morning breath, or his. It isn’t.

He washes his sheets, washes his clothes, washes himself, washes Eren.

It goes, but when they’re lying here like this, hands lazily groping and kisses sloppy with lack of effort instead of too much, it returns, and he doesn’t know why.

It smells like guilt and fear and anger, and the sourness of it in his lungs stiffens his fingers and quickens his pulse. His hands itch. His palms feel slick. Eren’s skin is stuck to his and everything is pressing against something and nothing is comfortable.

He feels Eren frown against his mouth. “What?” he murmurs.

“What do you mean, _‘what’_?” Levi snaps before he can help himself, rolling onto his back and sitting up with a grunt. “Sorry, I’m just-” he starts, and then sighs, pressing his knuckles against his temples and resting his elbows on his knees. “Just give me a second.”

Eren’s fingers are tracing concerned shapes on his thigh and he twitches away from them.

The silence is heavy. He can still taste it- still smell it- and it’s making him sick.

“Do you need anything?”

He peers at Eren from the corner of his eye. “No, not unless you can make it stop. You really don’t smell that?”

Eren sniffs at himself surreptitiously and Levi laughs despite himself, stopping when the wheeze of air sharpens the sourness on his tongue. “I don’t smell anything,” Eren tells him seriously. “What are you smelling?” His eyebrows furrow suddenly. “It’s not burnt toast, is it?”

Levi snorts. “No, and it’s not oranges either, so I’m not having a stroke and I don’t have the shine,” he drawls. “It smells like garbage,” he admits, looking at Eren uncertainly. “In the country, sometimes they have these things that catch rainwater, these things they use if they don’t have a well-”

“Like a cistern?”

Levi blinks, surprised. “Yes, like a cistern, that exactly what I’m talking about,” he confirms. “It smells like a cistern that hasn’t been cleaned. Almost like a sewer.”

Eren hand creeps back onto his thigh. “Gross.”

He laughs again. “You’re telling me, fuck.” He swallows against dryness and wishes he hadn’t.

“Do you want me to spray some air freshener or something?” Eren asks cautiously.

A corner of Levi’s mouth rises, wry and resigned. “No,” he sighs, “then everything’s going to smell like,” he considers it. “Like when a bunch of students haven’t bothered to take out the garbage for three weeks but they’re trying to cover it up because somebody’s mom is visiting.”

Eren’s look of embarrassment is rather telling.

Levi grimaces at him.

“You’re repulsive.”

***

He should have seen it coming.

It’s something he should’ve known from the moment Zoë introduced themself as a history professor.

It shouldn’t shock him when Armin- sometimes he could swear this kid is the only cashier that works in this godforsaken place- smiles and him says,

“Professor Zoë said they met you and Eren the other day!”

He looks him, trying to communicate the depth of his displeasure without words and wishing he lived in a world where smacking the shit out of teenagers for irritating him was permissible. _‘This is probably how they knew our names. This little fuck right here.’_

“Fucking your prof, are you?” he asks rudely, gratified when Armin fumbles and almost drops the box of tea he’s scanning. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I’m not-”

“If you’re helping them with their research, you might as well be fingering them for how hard they get over that shit,” he cuts in, making no effort to hide how amusing he finds Armin’s obvious mortification. “You might even-”

“Sir, is there are a problem here?”

He doesn’t know the voice, and the face is only vaguely familiar- it’s a different manager than the one who sold him his card.

 _‘Shit,’_ he thinks, and scrambles for a reply that won’t force him to find another place to get his groceries.

“I’m sorry, the customer was telling me about a novel he’s been working on,” Armin interrupts smoothly, face composed but still a little pink. “It’s my fault for asking- the content isn’t work appropriate and I wasn’t thinking.”

He blinks. _‘This kid can lie.’_ The thought is almost admiring until he realizes who it is that the calculating expression dwelling under the chastised and contrite frown reminds him of, and then he has to stop himself from grimacing. Seeing Erwin’s canniness in the soft features of a boy half his size and less than half his age is kind of unsettling.

The manager is humming disapprovingly at both of them, but Levi isn’t really listening. He grunts in response to things he thinks might be directed towards him, eying Armin as he progresses through the stages of genuine remorse to feigned remorse to thinly veiled minor irritation. It’s only when he looks relieved that Levi realizes the woman has left.

Armin clears his throat and shoots him a mildly displeased look. “As I was saying-”

“You covered for me.” It comes out sounding a little weird.

Armin stumbles over his words, pausing with his card in hand. “Yeah?” he asks, “Yeah.” He’s looking at him oddly. “I’m not going to get you banned from the store, Levi. Anyway, as I was saying-”

“Why not?”

Armin’s starting to look distinctly unimpressed. “Because,” he answers shortly, like that’s an answer at all. “Anyway, Professor Zoë wants to see you and Eren again. Eren’s already agreed, so it’s safe to assume that you don’t actually have much of a choice at this point- I’m just warning you for the sake of common decency because you don’t seem like someone who takes surprises well,” he chatters rapidly, clearly determined to get it all out before he’s interrupted again, and shoves Levi’s receipt into his hand.

Levi hesitates, crumpling the paper absentmindedly. “Thanks,” he says finally, and then frowns. “Wait, Eren said yes for both of us? He hasn’t said anything to me. He hasn’t even texted me at all. Speaking of which, I don’t remember giving that lunatic either of our numbers. When and _how_ the hell did this even happen?”

Armin sighs.

“We ran into them when Eren came to meet me after class,” he says softly, “about three or four hours ago.” He studies Levi’s expression with a wry smile. “If you’re wondering, Eren said yes immediately and went off with them somewhere- they didn’t say where. If he hasn’t texted you, it’s probably because he’s still with Professor Zoë.”

He doesn’t like where this is going.

“It’s possible they’ll be waiting at your door when you go home,” Armin warns him.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “How likely is ‘ _possible’_?”

Armin glances past him before sneaking a peek at something he has hidden under the cash desk. He winces visibly. His eyes are damningly sympathetic.

“Extremely, unless Eren got your apartment number wrong.”

***

Armin would make a good bookie, Levi thinks. _‘Kid has a good sense of the odds.’_

Eren and Zoë are, in fact, waiting for him when he reaches his floor.

He lingers on the top stair, watching them through the crisscrossing wires marking the reinforced window set into the stairwell door.

Eren’s sitting against the wall, nodding absently to whatever it is that Zoë’s saying. He frowns when he notices him picking at the salt on his shoelaces.

Zoë is pacing animatedly, hands twitching and fidgeting, rising and falling almost hypnotically. He’s reminded, strangely, of a hummingbird.

Levi eyes the bags in his hands with a sigh, slipping into the hallway as quietly as possible.

They don’t notice him until he speaks, and the way Zoë jumps is a small consolation for the hurricane of bullshit he’s sure he’s about to endure.

“Stop fucking pacing like that. What, are you about to take a shit in your underwear?”

Zoë whirls around and Eren’s chin snaps up.

He evades their approach, noting with some small sense of alarm that their stance looks a little like it might be the precursor to an attempted hug.

He shoves his groceries at a still-straightening Eren with a meaningful scowl before unlocking his door. “I should lock both of you out,” he mutters.

Eren’s mumbled attempts at what sounds like both an explanation and an apology is lost in Zoë’s too-loud cry of delight.

“This place is so _minimalistic_ ,” they coo, walking into Levi’s living room with an expression of deep interest. “It reminds me of-”

“ _Shoes,”_ he snarls, eyes fixed on the dark shoeprint muddying the edge of his carpeting. “If you’re going to follow me home and force your way into my apartment, do me the courtesy of trying to be civilized about it,” he snaps. “Next you’ll be taking a dump in my shower and drinking out of my toilet, you fucking animal.”

Zoë laughs but complies, leaving their shoes on a vague smear of wet dirt by his door. He shoves them surreptitiously into a neater pair with his foot, eying their muddied soles with disgust. “What the fuck have you two been doing, playing in the goddamn gutters?” He spies Eren’s shoes and grunts. “It’s not even raining outside and yet there are fucking puddles- Eren, what happened to your pants?”

They’re soaked halfway up the calf in a way Levi hadn’t noticed when he’d been sitting when his legs crossed on the floor.

Eren coughs and scratches his head. His eyes dart towards Zoë. They open their mouth, hands rising in an ominous display of early exuberance.

“You know what?” Levi sighs, defeated. “I don’t care. Eren, take off your fucking pants, you’re getting shit all over the place. And you,” he points emphatically, “get the fuck out of my apartment before I throw you out.”

“Go?” They ask, eyes oddly wide and unreadable.

“Yes, _go,_ ” he snarls again, “Are those made of prescription crap or prescription glass? The door is there.” He jabs a thumb at it demonstratively and, as if on cue, it opens behind him, thudding into his back.

He stares at the familiar face peering out from behind it with something fast-approaching the kind of malevolent calm that only extreme displeasure can induce.

Her arms are filled with convenience store snacks. Several of them are already open.

There is a mangled-looking muffin- _‘blueberry,’_ he registers dimly- pinched precariously between two fingers.

She’s chewing.

He watches crumbs from the muffin fall to the floor and turn grey in the puddle by Eren’s shoes.

“Why?” He’s not even sure what he’s asking.

She swallows her mouthful and looks at him uncertainly, following his eyes to the muffin in her hand.

There are crumbs on her cheek. They’re blue.

“Why,” he repeats flatly.

“Um,” she hesitates. He remembers, suddenly, that her accent is a warm rural burr. Her eyebrows are hard at work above mildly unfocused eyes, bunching and twisting as through she’s thinking very hard about something. “Are you asking why people eat muffins in general, sir, or just blueberry muffins specifically?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another relatively short chapter, but plot! Plot happens, thickens, generally transpires. Also Sasha is generally around but is getting depressingly little screentime because everybody's too busy being accosted by Hanji. Hopefully that'll change.

He’s standing with his back to the bathroom door, eyes closed, breathing deeply to calm himself.

_‘I’m going to kill someone.’_

His phone vibrates in his hand and he glances down at it.

**_New Message: Erwin Smith_ **  
_What did you do? **– 19:34**_

He growls at it in frustration.

_What the hell do you mean, what did I do? **– 19:34 (sent)**_

_Levi, you just sent me a text message that contained nothing but the word “fuck” repeated fifteen times. **– 19:34**_  
 _I don’t know if you recall, but the last time you did that, I had to post your bail. What did you do? **– 19:35**_

He grimaces, sliding down into a squat so he doesn’t have to see his scowling face reflected in the mirror behind the sink.

_I didn’t do jack shit. Thanks for the vote of fucking confidence. **– 19:35**_  
 _This shit-for-brains kid brought some psychotic professor from his university and their crumb-generating girl sidekick to my apartment without asking me first and they’re getting shit all over the place. **– 19:35 (sent)**_

_I’m shocked you haven’t hauled them out yourself by now. Eren Jaeger, wasn’t it? **– 19:36**_

He hesitates for a moment, unnerved.

_That’s fucking creepy, Erwin. Have I told you recently how fucking creepy you are? **– 19:36 (sent)**_

_Not lately. I must be losing my touch. **– 19:36**_  
 _This professor, they wouldn’t just happen to be Professor Zoë of the History department, would they? **– 19:36**_

He stares at his phone with a rising sense of discomfort.

Something is happening here that makes the hairs on his neck prickle and unease crawl over his scalp.

Before he can respond with more than a vague confirmation, someone knocks on the door immediately behind his head, and he jumps, instinctively whipping around his face his foe.

Or, at least, the door they’re hiding behind. Because he’s not hiding. He’s just using the bathroom like any other normal human being would be.

Of course.

“Levi? Are you okay?”

It’s Eren.

His already frayed temper snaps, and he whips the door open, grabs Eren by his shirt collar, and drags him into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Why the fuck are these people _still in my apartment?”_ he hisses angrily, yanking Eren down to his level.

Eren’s hand are raised defensively, his eyes still wide with surprise. Levi’s palm and fingers are starting to itch where they touched the doorknob. He clenches and unclenches his fist distractedly.

“I’m sorry,” Eren stumbles, “Professor Zoë is really hard to say no to, and I think Sasha just sort of does whatever she wants to- I’ll buy you groceries, okay? Please don’t get pissed,” he pleads, adding a belated “I mean, _more_ pissed than you already are,” and then flinching. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to get them to go home for the last hour or so, since you came in here-”

Levi stares at him.

“Eren, I’ve been in here for less than twenty minutes.”

Eren’s face does an odd convulsion, like he doesn’t know what to think of that. “No. Really? It feels like a lot longer,” he admits, eyes sliding off of Levi’s face uncertainly. “I’m not good with time.”

Levi sighs, releasing the front of Eren’s shirt and turning to the sink. The act of washing soothes the itching of his palm, but he lets the water continue to run over his hands as he thinks. “That doesn’t matter right now,” he concludes, methodically cleaning under already pristine fingernails. “What matters is getting those two the _fuck_ out of my apartment. What do they want?” he asks sharply, glancing at Eren’s reflection in the mirror instead of turning his head. “If it’s not just to be insufferable and invasive, tell me so I can give it to them and get them out of here without getting the cops involved.”

He watches as Eren edges closer to him, looking at the back of his head instead of meeting his reflected gaze. Eren’s arms are warm around his waist. “Professor Zoë keeps saying something about needing help doing research on the Three Walls,” he murmurs apologetically, kissing Levi’s neck chastely and tightening his awkward hug before reaching to turn off the sink. “My mother would kill me for wasting water,” he mumbles in response to Levi’s inquisitive grunt.

“That shithead has, what, a PhD in fucking around with dead people’s garbage and needs a brain-dead college freshman and a fucked up drifter to help them?” he asks incredulously, scrubbing his hands dry on a towel. “Does this look like an episode of goddamn Scooby-Doo to you, Eren?”

Eren laughs quietly into his shoulder. “I don’t know, does that make me Shaggy and you Scooby?” he teases, and Levi elbows him in the ribs.

Hard.

Eren’s still wheezing when he turns the doorknob with his sleeve and wipes his hand cathartically on his pants anyway.

“Alright, _Shaggy,_ ” he drawls, rage cooled to a simmering, disgruntled burn, “let’s see what your friend’s Professor wants with the likes of us.”

“Maybe they,” Eren pants, grinning, “just want to give you a Scooby Snack?”

Levi just looks at him for a moment, closes his eyes, and turns away, muttering, “I’ll give _you_ a fucking Scooby Snack, you waste of flesh.”

Eren calls after him into the hallway, tone light and teasing.

“I look forward to it!”

***

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

It’s a simple statement of fact.

Professor Zoë is, without a doubt, out of their fucking mind.

They grin at Levi, undeterred by his staring.

“The risk of discovery is very low compared to the _importance_ of this undertaking,” they insist, hands raised and flailing. Levi watches Sasha dodge a dangerously broad and sudden motion and dimly marvels at her ability to prevent food from falling. “And besides, even if we _are_ caught, I can assure you that the penalty is startlingly mild, considering the extent to which they are willing to go to _withhold valuable information from the academic-_ ”

“Why us?” Levi interrupts. It’s a question he’s asked twice before in the last ten minutes, both times with little success.

They blink at him owlishly, pausing mid-gesture. “Because I have a good feeling about you two,” they say simply, gaze unwavering.

He scoffs. “You have a _‘good feeling’_ about us? You’re a shitty excuse for a scientist,” he sneers rudely.

“Don’t underestimate the importance of intuition.”

There’s something about the combination of their soft, almost reverent tone and the unnatural way they tilt their head back, the lenses of their glasses going white with glare, that makes him hesitate.

_‘I can’t believe I’m even considering this.’_

“Give me one good reason to say yes.” He can almost _feel_ Eren’s surprise.

“There is a great deal of-”

“Save the shit about _‘enriching academia’_ by discovering what colour our ancestors were when the titans shit them out for somebody who cares about that garbage,” he snaps impatiently. “Give me one _good_ reason, or get out.”

“Strictly speaking, we don’t believe that titans were capable of defecation, though that would be fascinating,” they murmur, and then lean forward, eyes huge. “Eren tells me you’ve done quite a bit of travelling, Levi.”

He raises an eyebrow and glances at Eren, unimpressed. “I’m still not hearing that reason, shiteyes.”

“Wouldn’t you like to go to a place where _no one_ can bother you?” they croon, fidgeting with something.

He wants to cuss them out, but the suggestion does have a certain appeal to it. “That’s a piss-poor reason to break the law for someone you don’t even like,” he grumbles, “besides, you’ll still be there.”

He realizes his error the moment it leaves his lips.

“ _Will_ ,” Zoë smiles, “not _would_ \- _will_.”

He opens his mouth to argue and then closes it, unnerved by their manic grinning.

“It’s almost winter break,” they breathe. “Eren here already told me he doesn’t want to go home.”

They step forward. He steps back, lifting his forearms unconsciously.

Their next words are almost sung.

“Don’t forget to save the date!”

There’s a message waiting for him in his pocket. He doesn’t see it until much later in the evening.

**_New Message: Erwin Smith_ **  
_You poor, poor, sorry son of a bitch. **– 19:37**_  
 _Keep me informed. **– 19:37**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional Whiplash: The Chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains these two being huge dorks, and also a birthday. (And a phone call.)

He’s not avoiding Eren.

He’s avoiding Eren’s questions.

He knows Eren is curious, and more than a bit confused.

**_New Message: Eren Jaeger_ **  
_If you dont stop ignoring my texts Im gonna show up at your work. **– 18:01**_

He knows Eren is starting to get pissed.

 _‘Oh, we’re using capitals and punctuation today,’_ he notices, _‘shit.’_

It’s something he’s noticed that Eren does when he wants something- something he does to deprive Levi of the opportunity to change the subject or avoid the question by calling him out on his shitty grammar. It’s a very Pavlovian response to their earliest conversations, and normally, he finds it more amusing than anything.

Right now, he’s just not in the mood to deal with it.

He shrugs on his jacket impatiently, eager to be home. He hesitates beside the calendar pinned to the wall in the break room the same way he’s been hesitating for the past few days.

The date is steadily creeping closer, and he’s running out of time to decide whether he’s willing to spare the time and effort necessary to satisfy a curiosity he himself doesn’t even understand.

Whether he’s willing to endure the risk.

He hates that the risk only heightens his interest.

 _‘This shit is why you still find yourself working housekeeping in a fucking hotel,’_ he tells himself, sighing through his nose.

He stares at the dates.

Tomorrow, he will have lost his chance.

The scratch of his pen on the paper is strangely damning.

He tells himself that he can still easily change his mind.

He tells himself that if he wants to take someone else’s shifts, he’s sure to get them.

It’s _that_ time of year, after all.

He almost walks into him as he’s leaving the building.

Eren’s eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth set into a hard, stubborn line. “Levi.”

He pauses, glancing up and then to the phone in his hand. It’s been fifteen minutes since Eren’s last text.

“Generally speaking,” he murmurs drily, “I think it’s understood that you’re supposed to wait and see if the person you’re threatening is going to comply with your demands before following through, Eren.”

Eren crosses his arms over his chest. His feet inch outwards, giving him a wider stance. Levi recognizes it as a power display, but the way Eren almost looks like he’s hugging himself betrays his uncertainty.

“You weren’t going to answer, anyway,” he accuses.

Levi looks at him mildly, but says nothing.

Eren’s fingers wander out and pluck at his sleeve, and Levi hates the expression he’s wearing, because it makes him look so _young_.

“Come have a beer with me.”

“You’re nineteen.”

“I know the bartender, I told you that,” Eren insists, edging closer. “Nineteen’s legal in Canada,” he adds defensively.

“Nineteen’s legal in most of the world,” Levi sighs. “ _Black and Tan_ , then?”

***

He knows it makes Eren uneasy when he says he’d rather not sit at the bar.

He’s knows it’s because they both understand that other people can overhear your conversation at the bar.

He knows Eren knows that means he expects to talk about something he doesn’t want overheard.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet for most of his first beer, and Levi doesn’t break the silence.

“Levi, if you don’t want to do the whole-” he hesitates, glancing around at the other bar patrons “- _thing_ with Professor Zoë, all you have to do is say so,” he starts, and Levi sets his half empty glass on a coaster with a snort.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.”

Even without looking, he can tell that Eren’s staring at him. “But-”

“When’s your birthday, Eren?”

He meets Eren’s eyes, studies the confusion working across his features.

“March thirtieth,” he answers, “what does-”

“You’re going to be twenty at the end of March next year?” Levi interrupts, and Eren stumbles over a response, half nodding and half shaking his head. “I’m thirty-six.”

Eren’s starting to look kind of annoyed. “I know, but-”

“I’m turning thirty-seven soon,” he says quietly, careful not to break eye contact.

Eren’s eyebrows lower warily. “Okay? Happy Birthday,” he grumbles flippantly, and then pauses. “Wait, when-”

“Why don’t you want to go home for Christmas?” Levi evades.

The stare he receives in response is suspicious and confused. “Because I don’t want to butt in on my mom’s new life,” he states, jaw tight. “Because I don’t like that I’m going to have to get used to a new house and a new room and I don’t like that I’m going to have to put up with my mom’s boyfriend on Christmas and I want to spend Christmas with _you_ , is that a fucking problem?”

“Go home, Eren,” he mutters. “What the fuck are you doing? You’re going to spend your Christmas with somebody you met in a diner a couple of months ago and then hop on a plane to the asshole of the planet the next day to, what, do something that could fuck up the rest of your life if you get caught for it?” he asks bitterly. “Not to mention what happens if it turns out the place really is radioactive, Christ. Go _home_.”

“No.”

He looks at him, aggravated. “What?”

Eren doesn’t look confused anymore. He looks almost offended. “No,” he repeats. “Levi, if you don’t want to go along with Zoë’s weird scheme, that’s fine, but I’m not fucking going home. I _want_ to spend Christmas with you.” He swallows, throat bobbing. “Do you not want to spend it with me?”

Levi takes a long drink, remembering why this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. “People don’t spend their Christmases with me, Eren,” he tells him bluntly. “Christmas is a day where _you_ go home,” he growls, “and put up with your family’s bullshit- or hell, your friend’s family’s bullshit, I don’t care- and _I_ drink to the fact that I’m another year older in my apartment because anywhere that’s open is always filled with fucking lonely hearts types who think that being there alone means I must want a goddamn conversation. People don’t _spend_ Christmas with me.”

He doesn’t know what to make of Eren’s expression. It’s not pity, which he’s thankful for, but it’s something contemplative and distracted.

“Your birthday is on Christmas?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, I was born on Christmas. You don’t get a birthday when you’re born on Christmas. There’s too much other shit going on for that.”

Eren squints at him. “Okay,” he says suddenly, gesturing vaguely back and forth between them, “what the hell is happening here? Because I was getting the really strong feeling that you were about to dump me, and while I’m pretty damn relieved that that doesn’t… _seem_ to be what’s going on, I have no idea what _is_. What are you trying to say to me with all this, Levi?” He’s visibly exasperated and it irritates Levi to no end.

“I’m saying _go home_ , you fucking imbecile,” he snaps. “I should break up with you, but no, you’re not that fucking lucky. Do you know why?” Eren shakes his head slowly. “Because I’m selfish,” Levi snarls. “Because even though, for some reason, you seem to think I’m some sort of god amongst men- some fucking _hero_ of humanity, for Christ’s sakes- I have never achieved a goddamn thing in my entire life and I’m never going to, because I’m tired, Eren. I wake up tired,” he mutters, too exhausted to be forceful. “And the fact that I can actually put up with you only means that you’ll turn out like me if you hang around me too long.” He drains the rest of his glass and drops it on the table with a hollow thump. “This is how it starts: somebody says, _‘hey, let’s do something fucking stupid,’_ and I say _‘fuck it, why not?’_ because I’m tired and I’m bored and I don’t give enough of a shit to fight about it when I don’t even have to buy my own damn plane ticket,” he mumbles, watching a bead of condensation run down the side of the fresh glass the server places in front of him. He thinks she might be smiling. He doesn’t know why she would be- why anyone would be smiling on a day like today. “Let’s say you come with me, and by some miracle of chance manage not to fuck your life up. Great. Go ahead. I’m not going to make your decisions for you. I’m not nearly fucking nice enough to shoulder that kind of responsibility. But,” he sighs, “this isn’t ever going to stop being something I do.” It’s a confession, and he knows it, and judging by Eren’s expression, he knows, too. “I’m pushing forty and I’m still doing this shit. I’ll probably be doing it until the day I die. Do you know what that means, Eren?”

Eren’s lips are slightly parted, but his eyes are intensely focused. “You’re not going to stay here.”

“Gold star, there’s hope yet.” He raises his new glass in a mocking toast, elbowing the empty one off of his coaster. “No, I’m not going to stay in this cesspit of a college town forever. And I’m not going to lie to you,” he says softly, “I’ve got a bigger soft spot for your useless, unwashed ass than I’d like to admit, and I think you already know that. I wouldn’t stop you from following me, but I can’t stay here for you. I’d lose my fucking mind.”

Eren swallows uncertainly. Levi sighs, pushing Eren’s drink closer to him. “It’s not something you have to make up your mind about now,” he murmurs. “Just think about it before you start deciding you know how things are going to go with this.” Eren’s eyes are searching, and Levi knows he looks just as hollow as he feels. “I’m never going to be your white picket fence, kid.”

“I’ve never really liked fences,” Eren answers nonsensically.

Levi laughs and clinks the bottom of his glass lightly against Eren’s. “And I’ve never really liked walls. Cheers.”

***

He falls asleep past midnight on Christmas Eve, lulled by warm kisses and exploratory caresses he’s sure Eren had intended to go in another direction entirely, and he wakes up on the twenty-fifth of December to soft pressure against his lips and a much more insistent pressure elsewhere.

The mouth against his own is faintly minty, and he feels it quirk into a smile when he groans, sensations muddled by the hand rhythmically stroking his dick.

“Good morning,” Eren murmurs.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts, covering Eren’s hand with his own to slow it, “give me a second to wake up, will you?”

Eren just laughs, running his other hand up Levi’s side and kissing the hollow under his jaw appreciatively.

“Oi, I need to piss before you start doing shit like this,” he complains, shoving him off and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Eren makes a sound of protest and reaches for him. Levi points at him sternly. “Stay there. Just be patient for one fucking minute, you little shit.”

He’s intensely grateful that Eren doesn’t follow him to the bathroom, because the first few minutes he spends in there are devoted entirely to softening his erection enough to empty his bladder, and he grunts in relief once it happens, tilting his head back and closing his eyes against the glare of the bathroom light.

He washes his hands and brushes his teeth, combing tangles out of his hair with his fingers before venturing out of the bathroom again, and he’s surprised to find a fidgeting Eren still waiting for him when he returns.

“You actually listened,” he notes, and Eren rolls his eyes, tugging him down towards the bed. Levi resists for a moment, carding his fingers through Eren’s wet hair curiously. “Did you already shower?”

Eren laughs, bringing his hand down from his head and biting lightly at his fingers. “Levi,” he murmurs impatiently, “Birthday sex.”

“What?” he asks before he can really think about it.

Eren’s sigh is hot against his palm. “Birthday sex,” he insists, “You know? Sex on your birthday? It’s your birthday, get down here.”

Levi complies, a little bemused. “I’m pretty sure that’s something that the person who’s actually having the birthday is supposed to demand,” he comments drily, and Eren laughs.

“Are you really going to say no to birthday sex? You fucking suck at this,” Eren teases, fondling him through his underwear.

Levi hisses in a sharp breath, shoving Eren down on his back. “Not unless you keep being a pushy turd about it,” he growls, grabbing his wrists when his hands start wandering towards Levi’s crotch again. “Sometimes I wonder how you haven’t gotten yourself chained up in a basement somewhere, after all the crap I’ve seen you pull when you want a bit of dick.”

Eren’s grin is sneaky in the same way a small child’s is, and he yanks back against Levi’s grip expectantly.

Levi just sort of looks at him tolerantly and waits for him to stop squirming.

“You’re stronger than I thought you were,” Eren admits, and Levi quirks an eyebrow at the implication.

“Eren, when was the last time you went to the gym?” he asks, and Eren’s hesitation tells him what he needs to know. “I’m fucking thirty-seven, of course I’m going to be stronger than a freshman whose only exercise involves screwing or running to class.”

Eren’s looking at him funny. “I’ve never seen you go to the gym.” He pauses, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I’ve never even seen you in anything that looks like gym clothes.”

“I don’t,” he says shortly, “gyms are disgusting. I work out at home,” he drawls, making a show of forcing Eren’s arms down to the bed. “And why the hell would I put on clothes I’m just going to sweat through? Gross.”

He’s a little surprised by the look in Eren’s eyes. “Wanna spar?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ, one second you want to fuck, the next you want to fight,” he marvels, and Eren grins at him.

“The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

 _‘Well,’_ he thinks, _‘that’s an interesting philosophy.’_

***

He’s not sure how it is he ends up with one of Eren’s arms twisted behind his back and a restraining hand pressing down on the back of his neck, but when Eren rolls his ass back against his crotch instead of tapping out like he’d told him to, Levi almost lets go before he catches on.

He struggles with Eren for a moment, forcing him back down. “You don’t seem like the type to fight dirty,” he comments, leaning his weight on the hold. “Not used to losing, Jaeger?”

Eren grunts, squirming, and Levi snorts. “Tap out,” he tells him again. “You’re just going to hurt yourself if you keep screwing around.”

Eren does tap out, albeit reluctantly, and Levi lets go, half-expecting to jump him when he does.

He’s almost concerned when Eren doesn’t even roll over, just straightens his arm and rubs his shoulder with a groan.

Almost.

“Pissed off?” he goads quietly, leaning down to murmur in Eren’s ear. “You’re a shitty loser, aren’t you?”

Eren shoots him a slightly nasty glare, face flushed with exertion. “No,” he denies petulantly.

Levi laughs, inhaling sharply slightly when Eren rolls back against him again. “You’re not planning on moving, are you?”

He both hates and loves Eren’s self-satisfied little smirk. “No,” he repeats, pressing back more forcefully.

Levi runs his hands down Eren’s hips, debating very heavily with himself.

 _‘On one hand, we’re both sweaty as hell,’_ he muses distastefully, _‘but on the other…’_

On the other, he can be just as shitty a winner as Eren is a loser.

He likes to feel like he’s won.

And this? This feels a whole hell of a lot like winning.

Like being rewarded for winning.

He eyes Eren’s face suspiciously, grabbing him when he suddenly goes to move. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Eren grins cheekily. “I thought you’d want to shower.”

He leans in close again, pulling Eren’s ass towards him and grinding against it. “We can shower after,” he murmurs. “Unless you’re tapping out of this one, too.”

Eren shoots him a savage look unlike anything he’s seen on his face before.

“You fucking wish, old man.”

***

When they finally stumble companionably into the living room together, Eren with a sheepish grin, Levi with a scowl and a, “Christ, I’m so hungry I feel like my bowels are going to collapse the next time I take a shit- what time is it?” Eren laughs before suddenly stopping.

Levi looks at him inquisitively on the way to the kitchen.

“I forgot to call my mom,” he swears, fumbling with his phone, “Oh shit, _how_ many missed calls? Shit shit shit-”

Levi snorts, rummaging through the fridge for something to eat and only half listening to Eren’s end of the conversation.

“Mom, I’m sorry, I- wait, _what?_ Um, it’s-”

He takes the eggs from the fridge leisurely, rather pleased that he’s not burdened with the same task.

“-don’t know if that’s a good- er, can we talk about this later?”

Eren’s voice is growing closer as Levi fishes out tomatoes from a crisper drawer. He glances.

“Uh,” Eren says emphatically, staring back at him, “Yeah, he is- I, well, it’s- Mom, that’s-”

Without warning, Eren shoves the phone towards him, almost dropping it, and he takes it more out of reflex than anything else.

“Hello?” he answers automatically, puzzled.

_“Is this Levi?”_

It’s an older woman’s voice, and abruptly he recalls who Eren was talking to.

 _‘Mom,’_ he thinks, horrified, _‘This is Eren’s mom.’_

“Yes,” he says curtly, pointing at Eren and beckoning him over with a sharp movement and a meaningful look. “I assume you’re Eren’s mother?”

Eren raises his hands defensively and backs out of the room. Levi hates him a little for it.

 _“I am,”_ the rich, mature voice on the other end of the line confirms, _“Levi,”_ it starts, dripping with a kind of authoritative presence he’d all but forgotten, _“I was very surprised and rather hurt when Eren told me he would not be coming home for the holidays this year, and even more so when his friend Mikasa- I believe you’ve met?- told me she believed that the reason might be related to a new person in Eren’s life.”_

 “Is that so?” he answers mechanically. _‘This can’t be happening.’_

She hums affirmatively in his ear. _“Young man, I know that Eren can be… headstrong when he makes up his mind about something, but I want you to know that even if he doesn’t believe me when I say this, you are absolutely welcome to accompany him home. We have more than enough room for both of you. You don’t have family in this state, is that right?”_

 _‘Young man,’_ he registers, horrified, _‘she called me a young man.’_ He wonders what exactly it is that Mikasa has told Eren’s mother. “That’s correct,” he tells her, taking a deep breath. “Mrs. Jaeger, please believe me when I say I did try to convince your son to go home- I think this is something you should be discussing with him.”

The line is quiet for a long moment. Levi paces into the living room, eyes darting around in search of the offending person. _‘I can’t fucking do this.’_

_“Levi, can I ask you a personal question?”_

Her voice sounds cautious. His mouth goes dry. “That depends on the question.”

_“How old are you? You don’t sound like a student.”_

He closes his eyes, preparing for the worst. “I’m not a student,” he states frankly, desperately scrabbling for a way out of the inevitable maelstrom of shit this particular conversation is going to cause.

His eyes fall on his phone. Even from where it’s sitting on the arm of the couch, he can see a light blinking steadily. He has a new message.

_‘What would Erwin say?’_

The thought is sudden and unprompted. It’s as if something possesses him.

“I know this might sound strange,” he explains calmly, “but I believe Miss Ackerman may have misunderstood something when we met. As it happens, I am turning thirty-seven today, and your son insisted that I not spend my birthday alone.”

 _“Oh! Oh, I see.”_ She sounds genuinely surprised and, he notices, rather relieved. _“That’s so like him. Happy Birthday, Levi. You’re still welcome to join us for New Years,”_ she says warmly, _“In fact, I insist- it’s hard being away from family at this time of year.”_

For the first time, he’s actually grateful to Zoë for being an unrestrained lunatic.

“As much as I’m sure I would love that,” he purrs, slightly unnerved by the both familiar and alien cadence he hears in his own voice, “Eren and I have agreed to assist Professor Zoë of his college’s History department with some very important research.”

 _“Really? It’s rare that Eren expresses interest in academics. Well, the timing’s unfortunate, but that sounds like it could be good for him,”_ she murmurs understandingly. _“Thank you for looking out for my son- and I’d like to say I’m sorry about the misunderstanding,”_ she laughs.

“And I’m sorry for the confusion,” he replies smoothly. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Jaeger.”

He can hear her smiling. _“Please, call me Carla. Merry Christmas- and Happy Birthday, Levi.”_

When the line goes dead, he releases the breath he’d been holding in a burst, all of his energy going out of him with it.

Eren is staring at him from the doorway to the bathroom.

He shoves his phone at him roughly.

“ _Never_ ,” he growls, “do that again.”

_‘Happy fucking birthday to me.’_


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Airports and airplanes are special places that bring out interesting sides of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update- I've been incredibly busy with work lately. Anyway, this chapter is... something? I don't know what to say about this chapter. 
> 
> It certainly is a chapter.

The discovery that Professor Zoë and their crumb-generating assistant left ahead of schedule and will not be accompanying Levi and Eren on their flight is a small mercy.

He doesn’t think he could handle being subjected to their company for an extended period of time _and_ cope with the inevitable stresses of airplane travel.

That said, however, Eren’s unease is contagious, and they haven’t even boarded the plane when he starts to feel regret.

They’re sitting in the boarding area. He’s trying not to think. Eren’s making that hard.

“You’re going to be fine,” he assures Eren again, sighing as he watches him reduce another napkin to pieces in a fit of peculiar destructive nervousness Levi hadn’t been aware he’d possessed. “You’d never bottomed before we fucked, and yet you barely hesitated to do that,” he mutters, “some weird old fuck you barely know putting his dick in your ass is fine, but taking your first plane ride as an adult, no, that’s scary shit, it’s not like people do that every fucking day or anything.”

Eren shoots him a panicky glare, fists clenched so hard the bones of his knuckles protrude under the skin.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have to wait three hours for you to fuck me, even if you _did_ take fucking forever to wash your hands,” he snarls, and then flinches at Levi’s expression.

Levi stares forward, lips pressed together tightly.

He sees Eren drop the pieces of napkin on the floor out of the corner of his eye. It’s irrationally aggravating.

Eren plucks at his sleeve pleadingly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he mumbles softly. “I just want to hurry up and get on the fucking plane- I’m gonna be okay once we get on the plane.” Levi looks at the fingers on his shoulder distastefully. “It’s the waiting that’s killing me,” Eren grouses.

He sounds miserable, and as edgy as Levi is, he recognizes that he’s not helping.

He sighs through his nose, squeezing Eren’s thigh reassuringly. “This is the real reason airports have so much security,” he tells Eren conspiratorially, “to stop the poor fucks waiting for a plane from killing themselves or each other. _And_ each other,” he adds.

He doesn’t know if Eren sees it for the apology it’s meant to be, but Eren laughs, and that’s enough.

They wait another hour and a half to board.

***

As soon as the plane makes it into the air without showing any obvious signs of crashing and killing them all, Eren’s anxiety evaporates so immediately that it almost makes Levi angry.

“You little shit, I was starting to think I was going to have to piss in a cup because you wouldn’t let go of my hand,” he growls as he sits back down. Eren laughs apologetically, trying to peck him on the lips and missing.

“I told you I’d be okay once we got airborne,” he shrugs.

Levi scowls at him. “No, you said you’d be okay once you got on the plane, and we’ve been on the fucking plane for a while now, you goddamn turd.”

Somebody in the center aisle makes a disapproving sound.

Levi spots a stern-looking woman. She meets his eyes with a frown.

He realizes, after a moment, that she’s sitting beside two small children.

He coughs and averts his eyes. “Oops.” Eren snickers beside him. He grimaces. “How’s the view?”

Eren catches and squeezes his hand lightly, leaning close to the glass and humming contemplatively.

“We’re going to be flying over the ocean, aren’t we?”

Levi blinks. “Yeah, so?” He suddenly remembers why that’s important. “Yeah, we are. Excited?”

Eren sounds like he’s smiling. “I’m not sure.”

He grunts interrogatively.

“I want to see the ocean, but I hadn’t really thought about seeing it like this,” Eren admits. “I kind of feel like I shouldn’t look or something.”

“So close the shade.”

Eren shoots him an odd, sidelong glance.

“I said I feel like I _shouldn’t_ , not that I’m not gonna,” he grins.

Levi snorts and elbows him in the ribs. “That’s going to be what they put on your tombstone, shi- uh, brat.”

Eren laughs, but doesn’t disagree. All he has to say is a mischievous,

“Hey, I guess we can share, then!”

Levi can’t decide if he finds that incredibly sinister or just endearingly pragmatic.

***

He knows they’re flying over the ocean when he turns away from the flight attendant to ask Eren something and finds him with his nose pressed against the window, deaf to the world around him.

Levi bites back a chuckle and shrugs at the smiling attendant. “Give us a minute.”

As ridiculous and uncomfortable as Eren’s pose looks to be, he can’t help but admire the singular attention Eren’s put towards such a seemingly simple task.

It’s getting dark outside and Eren has his body turned, one of his legs tucked under him and the other propped against the back of the seat in front of his for balance, hands cupped around  his face to block the light above him from reflecting off of the dim glass.

Levi just looks at him, suddenly struck by a sense of simultaneously distant and crushingly immediate wonder.

_‘How did I get here?’_

Just a few months ago, he’d been sidling into another squeaky booth in another shitty diner in another garbage town, exhausted but too wound up by irritation to sleep, just like he always was when he stopped driving.

He couldn’t tell them apart anymore- not the towns, not the diners, not the people.

But this kid, he’d broken Levi’s rhythm.

This kid and his last name, liquid and intoxicating, a word that had immediately evoked in Levi’s mind more than just images of late nights filled with poor decisions.

When he’d repeated it back to him, muttering,

_“Jaeger? As in the German word for hunter, or the Jäger in Jägermeister?”_

he’d tasted every single shot he’d ever taken on the back of his tongue- he’d felt the joints of his knuckles pop as they met the resistance of someone’s nose- he’d seen the blue and red lights of the police car flashing behind his eyelids-

Eren Jaeger, the kid with the name that sounded like every single story he’d ever sworn to himself he’d never tell anyone.

And only now is he realizing the irony of it all, because despite the sheer number of people in the world he’s lied to, despite every employer he’s ever conveniently failed to mention his history of arrests to, he knows he would tell this kid anything if he asked, and he doesn’t know _why_.

_‘Eren fucking Jaeger.’_

He thinks maybe it’s because Eren is _his_ in a way he’s not sure anyone has ever been before.

Even his parents weren’t his, not like this. They were present in his life, but he’d always suspected they did not belong to it, did not belong to _him_ , and it had become incontestable truth when they’d proven it to him.

He keeps mementos of people, not people themselves.

He takes little things of them.

Little, precious things that he knows are theirs at a glance.

It’s something he’s always done, something he’s always known to do subconsciously.

A hundred people have called him a thousand words for doing it, and every single word meant that same thing.

It’s never bothered him.

It’s something he’s always done.

Now, staring down the creases of fabric that have settled between Eren’s shoulder blades, he is finally realizing why he steals before he leaves.

There is a part of him that was born expecting loss.

There is a part of him that doesn’t know what to do when the people who surround him continue to exist.

 _‘It’s like I expect everyone to drop dead at a moment’s notice,’_ he thinks, and abruptly feels nauseous.

It’s something he’s always done. It should be a natural conclusion. It still comes as a bitter shock.

He stares at the back of Eren’s head, distantly registering the way his hair curls a little more at the nape of his neck than it does anywhere else, and thinks about the way he has always been resigned to isolation.

He has never felt the need to palm a trinket from Eren’s dresser.

There is only one thing he wants in that room, and he has it.

Eren is _his._

It’s a terrifying concept.

Eren glances over his shoulder at him and then twitches, visibly startled. “Levi, Jesus, how long have you been-” He starts off laughing, but it tapers off into an odd expression.

Levi’s not sure what his face is doing, but if Eren’s response is anything to go by, it’s not good.

“Are you okay?” Eren asks him quietly.

Levi blinks hard, trying to shake off the oppressiveness of his mood. “Yeah,” he murmurs, and then juts his chin towards the window. “How’s the view?”

Eren’s smile is unabashed and immediate.

“ _Awesome_. I wish it wasn’t so dark outside,” he complains, launching into an excited tirade that Levi can’t quite attend to.

 _His_ Eren, he thinks, _‘the kid who’ll agree to cross an ocean he’s never seen to help a person he barely knows.’_

He marvels at the lunacy of the thing.

***

Five hours into their flight, Eren tries to fondle him under the blanket they share.

Levi bends one of his fingers back so far that he actually yelps.

“There are fucking _kids_ sitting across from us,” he hisses furiously, and Eren cringes, cradling his hand against his chest.

“But they’re-”

“I don’t care if they’re sleeping, _no._ ”

“But I-”

“And no, we’re not doing it in a cramped, nasty airplane bathroom, that’s disgusting,” he adds sharply.

Eren looks more surprised than disheartened.

“People actually do that?” Levi doesn’t like how curious he looks. “…have you done that?”

He groans.

Eren’s eyes are wide and questioning.

It has never been Levi’s policy to lie.

***

“I can’t believe you fucked a stewardess.”

“Flight attendant,” Levi snaps, avoiding the harsh stare of the airport staff as he walks quickly towards the baggage claim, Eren trotting easily beside him. “It was a twenty hour red eye flight and the guy next to me spent the entire time coughing like patient zero in a pandemic movie.”

Eren barks with laughter, nudging him with his elbow. “I can’t believe you fucked a stewardess because you _didn’t want to sit next to a sick person_ ,” he marvels aloud, and Levi grimaces at him.

“ _Flight attendant_. And it’s steward for a guy, not stewardess.” Eren stares at him blankly. “Look, flying doesn’t exactly get me in the mood,” he snarls, “he wanted to risk getting fired and I wanted to avoid getting sick and both of us got our fucking wishes.” Eren makes a choked noise of inquisition. He growls. “No, he didn’t get fired, at least not as far as I know. I managed to convince the guy who caught us coming out of the bathroom together that I was violently ill and I’d let him in because I needed somebody to help me stand up. I looked like shit at the time, so it was probably pretty believable.”

“God, I can’t believe you fucked a guy stewardess in an airplane bathroom,” Eren murmurs. He looks both amused and awestruck.

Levi sighs and slouches, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I can tell you that I’ve dealt drugs, run out on a marriage or almost spent a little time behind bars,” he mutters, glancing around to ensure that no one’s close enough to overhear, “and _this_ is what you find amazing.”

Eren laughs and then stops. “Wait, you almost went to jail?”

Levi rolls his eyes. “If I get taken into a room with a dude wearing one latex glove because you couldn’t keep your voice down in an airport, Eren,” he drawls, “I might just end up there after all.”

Eren smiles absently. “Well, we’d go together, at least!”

He can’t help his snort.

“I think you missed the point, Eren.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi and Friends: Adventures in surprisingly mundane crime.

Standing just outside of the restricted area surrounding where the infamous Three Walls once stood, Zoë peering eagerly through binoculars beside him, Levi realizes something.

“This is fucking insane.”

Eren looks at him with an odd little smile. “Thanks for the reminder,” he laughs lightly.

Levi frowns. “No, I’m being serious here,” he insists, meeting Zoë’s eyes as they raise them from the binoculars with an inquisitive hum. “Eren, this lunatic wants us to help them with something explicitly illegal- we could go to jail for this.”

“If we get caught,” Zoë chimes in, apparently unconcerned about being referred to as ‘this lunatic.’

“And what guarantee do you have that we won’t?” he snaps, leaning forward aggressively until they lean away. “Look, you’re willing to risk it for your research, I’m already a career fuckup, and that food girl, I don’t know, I guess she has her own reasons,” he muttered, “but Eren’s got a lot to lose.” He paused. “Speaking of which, where is she?”

Zoë blinks owlishly. “Who?”

“Muffin girl,” he spits, and they make a little noise of comprehension.

“Sasha’s gone on ahead,” they clarify, “she’ll meet us inside.”

He stares.

“She’s already inside the restricted zone?”

Zoë hums, obviously pleased with themself. “Sasha’s not just a pretty face and a big appetite, you know!” they exclaim excitedly, dropping down to a hush to whisper, “she’s also a fair marksman and a great person to have around if you’re going to be roughing it for a few days. Great wilderness survival skills. Great instincts.”

Levi grimaces.

“Great instincts, huh?” he mutters. _‘If she was raised by fucking wolves, that might explain a few things.’_

***

Levi discovers that the number of people actually attempting to break into the site of the Three Walls must be relatively low- it isn’t nearly as heavily monitored as he’d thought it was.

When Zoë had said that Sasha went on ahead, what they had meant was two things:

The first was that Zoë had used their not inconsiderable investigative prowess to obtain the specifics of the regular patrols that covered certain stretches of the perimeter, and had discovered that some were less attentive than others.

The second was that Sasha had used a rifle loaded with rubber bullets to knock a surveillance camera far enough off of its intended orientation to allow them a clear blind spot, and had subsequently dug a ditch under the fence to like some sort of filthy dog squirming into the neighbour’s yard.

“The patrol on this section is notoriously inattentive- no scientific spirit!- but knowing our Sasha, she’ll have done it behind a bush so it’d be less obvious,” Zoë tells him without refuting Levi’s unflattering characterization, “you can never be too careful!”

“If we were being careful, we wouldn’t even be here,” he mutters, already dreading the crawl underneath almost enough to wish for discovery. “Shouldn’t you keep your voice down?” he hisses as an afterthought.

Eren bumps shoulders with him and shoots him a sympathetic look.

Zoë hoots with laughter and flaps a hand dismissively as they weave through the undergrowth ahead, stepping lightly and surely as though it isn’t almost too dark to see. “The cameras don’t have audio and the patrol isn’t due for another hour and a half.”

“Why would they even need a patrol if they have cameras?” Eren asks curiously beside him, tapping at his hand hopefully but relenting when Levi resists.

“Garbage collection, for the most part,” they answer easily, breaking through the edge of the wooded area and shooting a broad grin over their shoulder. Between it and the glare of the perimeter’s floodlights on their glasses, the effect is singularly disturbing. “And to roust anybody who happens to be nearby when they pass- break-in attempts may be uncommon, but regular law enforcement doesn’t monitor the area, so it does have a reputation for attracting a different kind of criminal. Watch out for stray needles, boys.”

Levi scowls at their sing-song tone. “It’s unfortunate that they won’t be around in time to collect the biggest piece of trash around,” he gripes, and Zoë laughs again, apparently unoffended.

He watches them snoop around the base of the fence- tall and imposing, but lacking the characteristic barbed wire he’d been expecting and obviously not sunken into the ground, which makes it look more like the edge of a private park than a restricted area- slipping his arm around Eren’s waist when he leans his cheek on the top of Levi’s head.

“This is fucking insane, you know that, right?” he murmurs. He can feel Eren’s stomach muscles clench under his hand as he chuckles.

“Yeah.”

“Why are we doing this?”

“Why not?”

He snorts. “That’s a terrible reason to do anything, Eren.”

Eren smiles but says nothing.

He looks over at his throat- washed sallow and greenish by the bright lights than he knows it really- and, on a whim borne mostly out of fear that they’d both be too filthy to allow it for the foreseeable future, he presses a kiss to the space beneath Eren’s ear and squeezes him closer.

Eren’s response is promptly interrupted by an excited yell, but he’s smiling broadly as they approach the enclosure, and keeps bumping shoulders with Levi in the hopes of getting his attention.

Zoë had been correct: the path underneath the fence is located behind and a little to the left of an unpleasantly sparse and prickly-looking bush, and judging from the debris marking its edges, she’d had the foresight to cover it twigs and fallen leaves.

Mercifully, it looks large enough to accommodate each of their passages. He supposes he should have expected that, considering that Sasha wears her love of food with great pride and must have dug the opening to fit her own dimensions.

Zoë is gesturing expectantly to the hole, glasses casting long unearthly shadows down their face.

“Guests first,” they invite.

Levi grunts. “Making sure we don’t take off in the other direction as soon as you can’t chase us?” he asks drily, but grabs Eren when he makes a move to be the first through.

“Levi, I can-”

“I’ll go,” he says quietly.

He’s not sure what it is that Eren sees in his expression- some measure of his suspicious nature rearing its ugly head at the prospect of letting Eren go into a strange place without making sure it’s not dangerous first- but whatever it is, he relents without much resistance.

Crawling on his hands and knees is something Levi does not associate, like most people, with babies- it’s something he equates with nights spent bent retching over toilet bowls, and it is with this unpleasant thought in mind that he kneels to peer under it.

It’s dark on the other side- the floodlights are all facing outwards.

He creeps into it reluctantly, wincing as the back of his coat scrapes the dirty underside of the barrier but unwilling to suffer the indignity of squirming through on his stomach.

There’s a moment where he thinks he’ll have to when he’s edging his knees forward, torso clear of the hole but back arched and hips pressing into loose soil as he scrambles up the steeper incline of the other side, but he manages to scramble to his feet only mostly feeling like he’s just rolled around in somebody’s garden.

“Are you through?” Eren calls from the other sound.

He grimaces as he brushes dirt off of his everything. “No,” he snarls facetiously, eying his dark surroundings carefully for motion.

“…Really?”

He sighs. “Get over here, you brainless shitwipe.”

Eren’s passage under the barrier is much faster than Levi’s, courtesy of his much greater tolerance for being covered in damp soil.

He emerges in front of Levi still smiling but considerably dirtier than he’d last seen him- even in the low light, Levi can see the dark streaks marring the front of his jacket.

He doesn’t even have the time to call for Zoë before they’re there, ponytail pulled askew and grin manic. They reach for him with a suspiciously darker hand and he shuffles back warily, frowning as they grab Eren’s upper arm with the other.

“Isn’t this _exciting?”_ they hiss.

“What, now that we’re through you think it’s a good idea to whisper?” Levi snaps, yanking a cloth from his pocket and wiping agitatedly at his hands.

They just laugh, and Levi’s debating how much dirtier his hands would get if he gave into his temptation to punch them when something rustles nearby.

He stills instantly, sinking into a half-crouch and shushing Zoë and Eren impatiently.

Something rustles again, and then he hears something that makes his muscles relax and his face drop into an expression he’s sure makes him look much older and much more tired than he feels.

“I’d be impressed by the fact that you can move so silently if you weren’t eating while you were doing it,” he calls.

As if on cue, Sasha wanders into view with a half-crumpled wrapper in her hand.

He’s almost glad to see her.

She looks encouragingly clean.

***

As it turns out, this is because she bathed in the river, not because there’s a clean water source available.

“Why wouldn’t you send her ahead with the chlorine?” Levi asked Zoë, aghast. “Even if there are houses here, it might take days to shock chlorinate a cistern that’s been left to rot this long, assuming there’s even still water in it. Are we just going to drink each other’s piss for flavour while we stew in our own filth?”

He’s pretty sure their grin is meant to be reassuring. It’s anything but. “As fascinating an experiment as that would be, no: we have enough water supplies to last us a week of rationing, and you can always wash in the river- we’ll be following it into the site of the second wall.”

He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. “You don’t even know what’s been shitting in that river.”

“You don’t know what was shitting on that dirt, either!” they rejoin cheerfully, and he shudders in newfound horror.

“Why did I agree to do this?”

***

“Why,” he repeats, “why did I think this was a good idea? It’s December.”

Eren shoots him a little smile, already shivering as he strips off his shirt. “Well, at least you won’t be alone.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m alone or not,” he snaps, “we’re still both going to freeze to death in this cold-ass water.”

“You could just-”

“I’d rather freeze.” He strips off his own coat and shirt and throws them down with a furiousness that he knows Eren’s trying not to laugh at, hissing as the chilled air hits his skin. “I’m going to die at thirty-seven because I went skinny-dipping in a river in the middle of December.”

“A river that’s part of a historical landmark, though,” Eren supplies helpfully, and Levi inclines his head in acceptance, cringing as he lets his pants and underwear fall.

“ _Fuck,_ that’s cold, my dick’s going to crawl back up into my body when I hit the water,” he gripes, shooting Eren a warning look when he murmurs,

“God, I hope not.”

He plunges forward into the water without hesitation, preparing for the worst, but it doesn’t come.

The water is somewhat chilled, but not freezing. He blinks down at where it’s lapping around his waist.

“It’s not that cold,” he murmurs, furrowing his eyebrows as he realizes something. “Either I went into shock when I hit it or it’s actually warmer than the air.”

Eren eyes him with all the suspicion of a kid who has long-since learned his lesson about trusting people who claim that the water isn’t cold when it rightfully should be, but he toes towards the edge carefully, shivering. “Maybe I’ll just not, actually,” he mutters dubiously.

Levi grabs him around the waist and drags him in, careful not to put too much force into it and risk one of them hitting their head on a rock.

He manages to keep eyes and mouth closed during the endeavor. Eren does not.

Eren surfaces with a spluttering gasp and flails for a moment before getting his footing. As soon as it becomes evident that he’s not in any immediate danger, he looks down at the river and then at Levi with visible surprise. “This is actually kind of warm.”

He’s about to say _“I fucking told you”_ when he’s interrupted.

“That river’s fed by a series of shallow lakes to the south of here,” a distinctive voice calls from the shore. “I’d heard they were having an unusually warm winter, but I didn’t realize the current was fast enough for it to make it all the way here without the raised water temperature completely dissipating,” Zoë muses excitedly, “Do you think that’s why they built the southern outcropping of the outermost wall around it? _Fascinating._ ”

Levi looks at them in disgust. “I’ve got my junk hanging out, either bring me some soap or go the hell away.”

Zoë blinks at him and begins to rummage in a pocket of their backpack. “Well, I did have the foresight to bring environmentally-friendly biodegradable detergents to avoid compromising the ecosystem that’s replaced the human element within the Three Walls area, but-” Their fingers emerge with a small rectangle wrapped in what looks to Levi like it could be rice paper or something similar.

“Just give it to me, I don’t care,” he demands impatiently, “and go away.”

He snatches it out of their hand as soon as it’s offered. Eren laughs quietly beside him.

“Wait. Levi?”

He grunts interrogatively, tearing the already dissolving paper off of the oddly sandy-feeling bar.  

“How are we supposed to dry off?”

Zoë’s smiling at him sweetly from the shore.

“I think,” they say coyly, “you might prefer to hear about my theories than risk catching hypothermia trying to drip dry, _hmm?”_

He scowls.

“Just barely.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more questions about the world inside walls arise.

He’d already been resigned to the inevitability of spending several days in transit when they entered the walls, given the sheer size of the restricted area, but by day three, he’s almost used to it.

They’ve been following the river, and by the end of the first day, they’d made it to the edge of the border town Zoë had been rambling about- a place with a name that was a matter of intense debate amongst academics and the fabled location of the First Breach.

Levi, of course, had made a point of informing Zoë just how little he cared, but Eren had seemed strangely transfixed.

By day two, Eren had gotten a little strange. Every time Levi had looked at him, he’d found his eyes wandering across the uniformly ruined houses of Chiganshire or Chiganshira or whatever other pointless iteration of the town’s name Zoë subscribed to as being true, and despite his insistence that he felt fine, Levi hadn’t been able to miss the greenish cast his face had taken on.

Even if he had, he doesn’t think he would have been able to overlook Eren’s wild eyes and flaring nostrils.

 _‘Like a spooked horse,’_ he thinks again, and sighs.

By day three, Eren’s anxiety seems to be abating, but there’s a new problem.

“You can’t seriously mean to tell me you don’t smell that,” Levi insists. “Did you spend too long huffing old books, or something?”

Zoë shrugs and Eren opens his mouth to protest.

“I know you don’t smell it, I heard you the first time,” he interrupts, and then takes a deep breath to calm himself.

It doesn’t help. All it does it haul another load of sour air into his lungs. He flinches, turning his face away when Eren reaches for him.

“I just can’t believe you actually don’t fucking smell that,” he mutters again.

“There’s a significant amount of decomposing vegetation at ground level,” Zoë muses, “but the amount of regrowth the outer wall has experienced seems to be masking it.” They stroke the bark of a tree that’s grown through the mouldering wall of a building, fingers trailing along browning vines that look to Levi’s eyes like they might render it indistinguishable from the stone beside it when they’re green. “This could mean my theory is correct: the outer wall fell before the inner two, and under much different circumstances.”

Levi grimaces at the side of their face, breathing into the crook of his elbow for a moment before accepting that it doesn’t help enough to be worthwhile. “It’s not rot I’m smelling,” he snaps, “it’s sewage.”

Eren looks at him for a moment, expression troubled.

“Like a cistern?”

Levi frowns. “And worse,” he admits.

***

At some point, he starts to smell not only sewage, but something acrid and chemical that reminds him of factory smoke, and under that, like the base note of a particularly foul perfume, an unnerving saltiness with a sharp metallic edge that should remind him of rusted barges or old pennies but just reminds him of blood.

It’s almost unbearable, but as soon as it reaches a point where it should be, it stops nauseating and distracting him.

He’s still aware of it- feels it in the air touching his skin, tastes it in the every bite he takes of their dwindling rations, and wonders if he’ll ever feel truly clean again- but it’s faded to an irritated itch behind his waking senses, like an old wound that’s never quite healed or the ache of an arthritic joint heralding the coming of rain.

On the fifth day, it really does rain.

Zoë takes this as a sign to make their first genuine stop.

The home they choose is remarkably well-preserved, a small stone manor that looks much older than the ruins of the town it’s nestled in the centre of, and Levi wrenches off the worn lid of the towering cistern behind it before he ever steps foot inside.

Even the pounding rain at his back can’t completely cover the pungent waft of sour-sweet odor that escapes it, but it seems to be free of the insectile residents he’d expect to find in summer, much to his relief. The smell is bacterial and vegetal, maybe even fungal, but there is nothing swimming in his water- what little of it there is.

The troughs that had connected it to the roof have long since fallen, and so it’s nearly empty when he opens it, save a calf-deep sludge that’s more algae than fluid. He spends longer than he intends to scrubbing scum from its sides and bottom with his shirt tied around his face, lingering until the rain swells it to above his knees before clambering out.

When he manages to get the back door open- at first he believes it to be locked or bolted, but then he realizes that it’s simply that the wood has warped with age and swollen with dampness- he finds Eren squatting in front of an old woodstove in what looks to be the kitchen. For a moment, it’s almost idyllic.

Welcoming, even.

And then he looks again.

“Holy shit, you’re soaked,” Eren starts to say, but Levi silences him with a sharp glance.

“How long are we staying here?”

He tells Levi he doesn’t know. “At least until the rain stops, I guess? Maybe longer? Professor Zoë said we need to replenish our water. Oh, and something about Sasha hunting, I think.”

Levi strips off his sodden clothes and wrings them out in a dusty-looking basin by the window, taking care not to take too much notice of the unsettling way the table behind him seems to have been set out for a dinner that was never served. He slings them carefully over the back of a chair to dry, painfully aware of the irony inherent in the act when the clothes in questions are dirty and the chair itself is dusty, but says nothing.

Eren is gawking at him.

“What?” he asks, irritated by his vacant expression. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Eren ducks his head sheepishly, and for a disconcerting moment, Levi thinks he looks much younger than he is- fifteen, maybe, or sixteen. The thought makes him uncomfortable.

Eren mumbles something he doesn’t quite catch.

“What’s that?” he prods, nudging at Eren’s crouching form with his toe.

“I said I _know_ ,” he mumbles again, “but for some reason, it feels like I haven’t.” The peek Eren sneaks at him after he says this makes Levi feel oddly exposed. He doesn’t know what to say.

“We need to clean,” he says instead, pulling out clothing from his duffel bag and telling himself that he’ll bathe and wash it after the house is clean. “Where’d shiteyes go?”

***

They’re upstairs, as it turns out.

He’s covered in dust, almost as filthy as he was when he came in from the rain, and they’ve been upstairs this entire time, not out somewhere with Sasha, as Eren had believed.

He knows because he was halfway through scrubbing the greying varnish off of the stairwell banisters when he heard them laughing with apparent delight.

He follows the fading echoes of their voice, blackened cloth still clenched in his fist, straining to hear something else over the rhythmic pounding of the rain on the roof.

He hears nothing but steady dripping, but when he looks up, he’s begrudgingly soothed.

They haven’t been entirely useless- not only have the wall sconces been rekindled and lit, there are sheets of plastic stapled across small holes in the hallway ceiling, and the few that seem to be letting water escape drain into basins similar to the one he found in the kitchen.

The open spaces of the living area and kitchen downstairs were deceptive, though- the hallway is narrow and crowded with a peppering of closed doors.

The first half of the hallway is symmetrical, pairs of doors punctuating it every few steps, too close together to mean anything but small rooms with sparse furnishings, but the second half only has two doors, one labeled with an unreadable nameplate, the other with what seems to be a children’s drawing of a dog.

He tries the door with the nameplate first- not without throwing a puzzling glance at it, though, because the lettering seems familiar but the words are unintelligible- and finds it unlocked.

The first thing his eye register is the shine of firelight on twin panes of glass. He promptly closes the door again, unimpressed and unrepentant.

The squawk of protest this action earns him tells him that yes, the soft impact against the other side of the wood was, in fact, Zoë’s nose.

He opens it again, frowning. “Is there a reason you’re hiding up here instead of helping us clean?”

They don’t answer him. They just _grab_ him, and he grimaces before realizing that his clothes are probably dirtier than their hands for once.

It’s an oddly satisfying feeling. At the same time, it’s also an incredibly horrifying feeling, and one that sets his skin itching wherever his clothes are touching it.

He lets them drag him into the room, barely noting the oil lamp on the desk before they shove something into his hands.

“ _Look,_ ” they hiss excitedly.

He looks down. It’s a book.

He swallows his surge of impatience and sighs. “What am I looking at?”

“Open it. _Read_ it.” He watches them fidget with anticipation before reluctantly obliging.

“It’s a book of recipes,” he comments after flipping the cover open and glancing down. “Okay? You’ve got some fucking hobby, thinking this is exciting.”

The look they’re giving him is a little strange. “You can read it?” Their tone makes him pause.

He flips open the cover again and realizes, with a strange thrill of unease, that he _can’t_. “Wait, this-”

“How did you know it was a cookbook?”

They’re leaning in, eyes wide and unnerving behind their glasses. He leans back, curling his lip. “I guess I saw the picture, I don’t know?” He gestures vaguely to the herblike illustration at the bottom of the page, feels the urge to second-guess himself, and denies it. “Anyway, what does this- wait, this is the same language that’s on the door, right?”

The question escapes him before he can convince himself that he’s not curious, and Zoë’s smile spread across their face like a disease.

“Now look at this one,” they insist, shoving another book into his hands.

He fumbles with it, trying not to drop either one, and glances down at the new book’s cover impatiently.

And then he glances down again.

He flips open the cover, trying to ignore Zoë’s probing stare.

“…It’s in German.”

Their hoot of laughter is deafening. They flap a hand excitedly before disappearing behind a bookcase.

He blinks and looks again.

“Is that a fucking secret _door?”_ he asks incredulously, pacing around it and peering into the room beyond.

It’s a library.

Zoë beams at him. “It _is_. I took that cookbook from the kitchen, but the German book, that’s from in here- _all_ of the books in here are languages I recognize, Levi.” He steps into the room cautiously, eying them as they gesture grandly to the shelves lining the walls. “This one? _Italian_. Cantonese, Japanese, French, Thai, Spanish, Hindi, Arabic- no English yet, but I have high hopes-”

Something in the corner distracts him. He dumps the books in his arms on a table unceremoniously and approaches it.

A quick lift of the lid confirms his suspicions. “This is a gramophone.” There’s still a record on it.

“I have a theory.”

He peers over his shoulder at them, still idly toying with the tone-arm of the machine and considering whether or not he should test if the machine still works.

Zoë doesn’t seem to need prompting. “I think,” they start, voice inexplicably hushed, “that a lot of different people lived in these walls- different people who spoke different languages.” He grunts in acknowledgement, turning back to the fluted brass of the gramophone’s horn with interest. “And _when_ they came in here, there wasn’t enough space to support different language groups- so the biggest languages started bleeding into each other over the generations, making _one_ language that everybody spoke.” He has the feeling they’re making a demonstrative gesture. He does not turn to check. “The language on the door. The language in the cookbook.”

He pauses with his hand on the gramophone’s crank. “But then we are why speaking English now? Why is there still German? That doesn’t make it any fucking sense,” he dismisses impatiently. “And why was this room behind a fucking _secret door?_ How the hell did you find it, anyway?”

Their next words are spoken too close to his left ear to be part of anything but an active attempt to irritate him. “I think these books are contraband, just like this-” they tap the recipe cook before gesturing broadly “-and all of _this_ is. I think the people inside of these walls tried to erase the memory of the people who were _outside_ of it.”

He stares at them.

“And now we’re trying to erase the people who were inside of it out of, what, some sort of shitty fucking karmic duty?”

Zoë smiles eerily.

“I don’t know. But I plan to.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this contains mentions of hunting, including the gutting of a dead animal. Please be aware of that.
> 
> It also contains a lot of other weird shit.
> 
> What a weird chapter.

When he sees her silhouette in the doorway, his first thought is that they’re being attacked by a bear.

When she lumbers into the light and deposits the deer carcass she had slung over her shoulders on the table, his concerns evolve.

“Take _that_ somewhere else,” he tells her, jabbing a finger at the animal’s head. Beside him, Eren is silent, apparently transfixed by its glassy-eyed stare.

Sasha’s proud grin falters. “Sir?”

“You’re getting blood all over the table and the entire room is starting to smell like wet fur,” he snaps, “we’re going to be eating at this table, get your goddamn kill off it.”

“But I have to-”

“You are _not gutting this animal on my table_ ,” Levi snarls.

He dimly registers Eren’s eyebrows twitching upwards out of the corner of his eye and glances over to see him mouthing _“my table?”_ to Sasha with a bemused expression.

Levi narrows his eyes and stares at him. He sees the moment when Eren becomes aware that he’s doing it, watches Eren’s eyes flicker uncertainly as he tries not to acknowledge that he has, and meets Eren’s reluctant gaze when he surrenders, shoulders raised defensively around his ears like a child expecting a scolding.

He drags the moment on a little longer, tasting blood and rain and animal musk in the air and feeling especially spiteful in his irritation.

“How long did it take you to find and kill this game, Sasha?” he asks mildly.

He can hear the surprise in her voice. “Uh, a few hours, sir? It’s hard to track in the rain, but I didn’t want to get stuck with cleaning duty, so I- uh. A few hours. Four, I think.”

Eren shoots her a bewildered glance and Levi frowns at him. “Four hours in the pouring rain, Eren. I think she could use some help turning this animal into something we can eat, don’t you?”

Eren’s chastised expression fades into deep dismay. “I can’t, I mean I’ve never-”

“She can teach you,” he presses, studying Eren’s pleading eyes without much sympathy. “I scrubbed the cistern and cleaned most of the house, she caught our dinner, hell, even shiteyes patched most of the holes in the roof and got the upstairs hallway lit before getting distracted- I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you help her with the meat.”

Eren looks like he’s wracking his brain for any excuse he think might sound plausible and is coming up short. “I made a fire and helped you clean,” he says lamely, quietly adding, “a bit.”

Levi just looks at him.

“Get this thing off of my table,” he repeats slowly, leaning close. “There’s an old stable around the side of the house. Do it there. Don’t fuck up.”

Sasha hums in confirmation, spirits restored, but Eren looks miserable.

 “I won’t,” he assures Levi grimly.

And, peculiarly, a little bit fired up.

Levi watches him haul the animal onto his shoulder and wonders why he doesn’t feel worse about how he’s treating Eren.

The question troubles him more than his own behaviour.

***

When he goes to check on Eren’s progress, he feels the strangest and most inexplicable sense of déjà vu.

He can’t see Sasha, but he also can’t see any conspicuous offal on the bloodied sheet of plastic that’s been thrown over the bench she seems to be using as a table, so he assumes the two are related.

Eren, however, he sees immediately.

He’s visibly exhausted, chest heaving with exertion, and nothing about him looks even remotely appealing.

His arms are coated to the elbows in a thin sheen of blood. There’s a smear of it across his forehead from what Levi can only assume was an absentminded attempt to wipe wet hair from his eyes with the back of a hand or arm. There’s blood in his hair and rivulets of diluted pink meandering into his eyebrows and down his right cheek. His clothing is rain-soaked from the chest up and blood-soaked from the chest down, a perfect gradient save a few spots that have feathered into the wet fabric of his shirt collar like pale watercolour on white canvas. The front of his jeans has gone from blue to almost black and his greying shoelaces have turned the kind of dark, saturated red that inevitably dries an unsavoury brown.

 Eren is breathing heavily and looking at him like he needs to be reminded why he’s doing this.

“Levi,” he pants, extending an arm towards him. He’s much too far away to make contact but Levi shuffles back anyway, raising his hands defensively.

“Don’t touch me,” he mutters. “Almost done?”

Eren nods heavily, eyes slipping closed for a moment as he steps away from the suspended carcass and towards the door to the stables. He’s swaying a little. “Levi, seriously,” he calls softly. “Come here.”

He steps back again, lingering in the doorway and casting Eren a doubtful look. “You have literally never looked less attractive to me, Eren.”

Eren laughs and then sighs, sitting down on the slick plastic on the bench without seeming to care that it’s covering the last clean parts of his jeans in just as much blood as the rest. “Thanks,” he mumbles drily, “This is way harder than it looks. I need to crash.”

Levi grunts unsympathetically. “What you _need_ is a goddamn bath. You’re not coming inside like that.”

Eren’s eyes are desperate. “I don’t think I could handle washing up in the river right now,” he pleads. “I’m so fucking tired I think I might drown.”

He sighs through his nose.

“I’ll wash you.”

“What?” Eren’s heavy eyelids lift, and for a moment, his confusion makes him look genuinely awake and alert.

“It’s fucking pouring out there,” Levi drawls, “it’s like standing in a shower. Eren, it’s been raining for almost an entire day- the river’s probably flooding its banks. You think I’d let you go in there even if you weren’t dead on your feet?” Eren’s expression is doubtful. It makes him feel sullen and angry. “I’m not trying to get you killed. Give me a little more credit than that.”

Eren’s smile is slow and tired but genuinely apologetic. “I’m super gross right now, Levi.”

 “I’d noticed.” He grunts and beckons impatiently for Eren to follow him. “The other one can handle the rest. If you think I’m sleeping beside someone who looks like he’s been playing with dead shit all night, you’ve got something else coming to you, kid.”

Eren groans as he rises from the bench, but he looks a little hopeful. “You’re going to sleep with me tonight?”

“Not if you stay like that, I won’t,” he retorts, opening the stable door wider and slipping out behind it to avoid Eren brushing up on him with his bloody clothes, rain be damned.

It takes Eren longer than usual to get stripped out of his clothing, and Levi handles it gingerly, draping his sodden shirt and jeans over the squat and weathered fences bracketing the stable’s entrance and hoping that the rain will wash the worst from them.

He turns around to find Eren naked, sitting on the ground with his eyes closed and his face raised to the sky.

He snorts, blinking water out of his eyes as they adjust to the gloom, and squats in front of Eren, drawing a slim rectangle of wrapped soap out of his pocket.

Eren chuckles when he sees it, and moans when Levi begins to work the soap into his hair.

He pauses, surprised. He knows his touch is not especially gentle- he’s been told many times that he has a tendency to grip a little too firmly, to knead a little too deeply, but Eren is leaning into his touch compliantly, eyes closed and hands cradled limply in his bare lap.

Levi works him over methodically, eventually fetching the basin from the kitchen out of impatience and letting it fill with rain while he scrubs the blood from under Eren’s fingernails.

Eren’s heavy and unhelpful by the time he hauls him to his feet and drags him inside, and Levi realizes with some displeasure that his nakedness means he’s the one who’s doing most of the dripping on the floor. For the second time that day, he strips and leaves his clothes over the back of a dining room chair, coaxing Eren to climb the stairs alongside him with a light slap and a few choice words.

As soon as Levi’s head hits the pillow, he thinks again that the relatively untouched state of this house- and its peculiarly undisturbed linen closet- is as much a blessing as it is a subject to puzzle over.

He turns his head and finds Eren already asleep.

This is the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes.

***

He wakes up much more sharply than he’s accustomed to- flickers from sleep into awareness like a thief or a soldier, fists balling and muscles bunching with instant tension before his mind has had a chance to pinpoint exactly what it was that woke him.

Tentative fingers pause on his bare stomach and then retreat. He grabs at them almost instinctually, surprised by the wrist he catches in his palm.

He has never had reflexes this sharp, especially not immediately after waking.

“Levi, you’re hurting me,” Eren whispers, and he lets go, clenching and unclenching his hands uncertainly.

“Sorry,” he mutters into the darkness.

There is a brief instant where he thinks he might be able to go back to sleep.

But then he breathes in and everything smells like Eren.

He stares at the faint outline of Eren’s face in the darkness with wide eyes and feels his heart rate start to climb.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” Eren whispers again. “Levi?” He sounds puzzled, but like he might be smiling.

He wants to touch him.

It’s not a wholly unfamiliar urge, but the sheer intensity of it is.

He wants to touch Eren with a vaguely maddened urgency that seems like it would be more at home in someone deeply repressed, not a man lying in bed with his lover.

He wants to handle Eren with a possessive roughness that disturbs him because he recognizes it as the desperate need of a man who thinks he’ll die tomorrow to leave an indelible mark of himself on something he treasures. He’s felt it once before, when a man handed him a gun and told him that it was loaded with a single bullet- a kind of fevered and directionless lust tempered with calm resignation.

“Levi?” Eren repeats, audibly concerned now. His fingers brush against Levi’s ribs cautiously.

Levi rolls onto his knees and straddles him with a precision he has stopped questioning by the time he has his hand buried in Eren’s hair and his mouth pressed to Eren’s throat.

He feels the chest beneath his jump with shock, feels hands flap uselessly at his chest for a moment before smoothing over his shoulders and down his back with more confidence.

Eren laughs breathlessly. Levi drags his teeth over the pulse in his throat and twists his fingers tighter in his hair.

Eren stops laughing.

He moans Levi’s name in a loud mewl, squirming underneath him.

Levi pulls back, looking down at him appreciatively.

His eyes keep finding things he doesn’t intend them to, and in a strange way- he sees the corner of Eren’s jaw and thinks, bizarrely, that it is broader and less soft than it would have been when Eren was younger; he sees the definition of Eren’s shoulder muscles and has to blink away the half-light illusion of a layer of pale fabric bunching in its creases; he sees the shadows of early furrows worn into the skin between Eren’s eyebrows by pain and searches for a rage and determination behind his eyes that isn’t there.

Except then it is.

There’s a mad fire burning in Eren’s eyes. His eyebrows bunch and make real the furrows his mind invented.

Eren whispers something, and Levi blinks.

All at once, the haze of surreality lifts.

“Did you just call me _sir?”_ Levi asks incredulously, and Eren’s face flushes.

He looks just as bewildered as Levi feels. “I-” he starts, stumbling, “Did I?”

The image of Eren’s lips moving replays in his mind, and he realizes with a start that whatever it was that Eren said, it wasn’t that.

It wasn’t even English.

***

Falling back to sleep proves difficult.

He’s hyperaware of Eren lying beside him, and as soon as the unease of what happened starts to fade from his system, the haze starts to creep back in.

It’d be easier if Eren was sleeping, but he’s a restless college student with a high libido and Levi doesn’t know if he really thinks he can’t hear him masturbating surreptitiously or if he’s doing it on purpose.

He suspects it’s the former. Eren’s an earnest and straightforward kid, for the most part.

If he was after sex, he’d stick his hand down Levi’s pants, not his own.

If Eren thinks the rain is heavy enough to disguise up his stifled panting or the rustling of his hand under the covers, he’s sorely mistaken, and hearing him is just worsening Levi’s condition.

When he starts to whimper with the effort of silencing his moans, Levi groans openly with frustration.

“Eren, I really hope you don’t intend to blow a load on these sheets and then sleep on them,” he interrupts, and Eren freezes. “Fucking gross.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

Levi eyes his turned back narrowly and creeps across the bed towards it, fitting his hips against the swell of Eren’s ass. He lets his hand smooth over his hip suggestively. “How exactly am I supposed to sleep when you’re jerking your fucking meat right beside me?” he murmurs.

“Sorry?” Eren’s apology sounds confused but hopeful and he rolls back into Levi’s erection with a mischievous hum.

Levi grinds forward with more force than he’d really intended, fingertips pressed tightly into his hip. He tries to kiss the nape of Eren’s neck but ends up dragging his teeth over the faint bumps of Eren’s spine. “Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me?” he mutters into Eren’s skin, curling his arm around his waist and drawing the smooth line of his back tight against his chest and stomach.

And there is something wrong with him.

He feels desperate when there’s no reason for desperation.

He feels peculiarly starved, like he hasn’t been touched affectionately in so long it’s become a physical ache, like sexual intimacy is something his body had forgotten and has just remembered and the remembering is burying him under a want so powerful that it feels like a _need_.

Eren moans lightly, grinding back against him in earnest, and Levi leans his forehead against his spine, trying to calm the insane mishmash of impulses he feels.

“Eren, I am feeling seriously fucked up right now,” he admits, and Eren pants inquisitively, rolling his ass back against Levi’s hips and his own erection forward into the circle of his hand.

“Bad fucked up or good fucked up?”

Levi lets out an unsteady breath, rocking against Eren and craving more with an intensity that is almost painful. “I don’t know. Both,” he breathes, dragging his blunt nails over Eren’s stomach and relishing the way the muscles tense under them with a dazed sense of satisfaction. “An unholy shitload of both. God, Eren, I want to fuck you until it kills me.”

Eren makes a sound that might be a laugh and slows the rhythm of his motions. “Don’t you mean until it kills _me?”_ he teases breathlessly, craning his head to look at Levi.

Levi meets his eyes in the gloom, only half seeing them. “No,” he murmurs, “I really don’t.”

He lifts his arm from around Eren and is pleased when he takes the cue to roll over.

And then Eren rolls onto him and everything is Eren and his brain starts to do something extremely weird and not entirely welcome.

Eren kisses him and he doesn’t taste the morning breath- it’s only been a couple of hours, he supposes vaguely- but is briefly convinced that it’s midday, not the middle of the night.

He palms Eren’s ass and drags his hips against his own and, for a second, it is high summer, not the dead of winter.

Eren whispers something in a language he doesn’t recognize but still understands and they have to be quiet because there is someone walking down the hallway outside and they can’t be caught.

They’re wearing boots and they click against the stone of the floor when they walk past his room at night and he hears it because he’s not sleeping, but this softness of skin and hair under his hands is new, the moaning in his ear is new, neither fits with the thoughts and images the misfiring part of his brain is supplying him, and he rolls Eren onto his back in a moment of insane conviction that it’ll make it night and winter and a house with wood floors again.

And it does.

With Eren lying panting and naked under him once more, the dizzying swirl of conflicting information dies down to a single, lustful impulse.

He gives in, fisting his hand in Eren’s hair and kissing him deeply before burying his teeth in the crook of Eren’s neck with a sort of possessive psychosis that feels more sexual and less sane than anything he has ever done.

Eren yelps with surprise, slapping a hand over the area when Levi releases it and staring at him. “Wh-”

“I have,” he confesses, “no idea.” He thinks about it for a moment, staring at the wall above the headboard. “I feel kind of like I’m in the middle of a whiskey bender,” he realizes aloud. He looks down at Eren and is dimly relieved to see that he looks more bemused than frightened or angry. “The shit I want to do to you right now isn’t just weird, some of it’s damn near implausible.”

That earns him a laugh. “Maybe it’s ghosts. Should I call an exorcist?” He pauses. “Professor Zoë probably knows something about exorcisms, actually.”

Levi snorts, peeling Eren’s protective hand off of the mark on his shoulder and pressing an apologetic kiss to it. “If I’m possessed, it’s by somebody so sexually repressed he’s forgotten how sex with real people works,” he mutters drily, and then smirks. “I think you should indulge the poor old bastard a little.”

Eren’s smile is surprisingly wicked. “You or the ghost?”

Levi just looks at him.

“One of these days, Eren,” he warns, “I really will kick your ass.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long and peculiarly meandering chapter.
> 
> I honestly have no idea where most of this came from. But shit, it's here now, I guess.

When he comes down for breakfast the next morning, leaving Eren still sleeping upstairs- soundly but not well, he guesses, judging by his furrowed eyebrows and huffy mumbles- he comes face to face with two very different reactions to the same thing.

The reality of the situation, he realizes too late, is that even if last night’s sexual endeavors never made it to a point that couldn’t still be called ‘fooling around’, this is an old building and Eren is a loud partner.

Sasha is frowning at him with such comically exaggerated unhappiness that he can almost hear her asking him _“Why? Why would you do that to me?”_

It’s surprisingly amusing.

Zoë, however, greets his appearance with a wily grin that he doesn’t like the look of.

“So it sounds like you-”

“No,” he interrupts immediately, certain for reasons he can’t explain that he doesn’t want to hear any more. He takes a deep breath, takes one more glance at the apples in Sasha’s hands- presumably unrelated to her undiminished look of betrayal- and the mess Zoë is making of the counter and decides that he wants nothing to do with it.

***

It’s still raining, but not with the same pounding heaviness as it had been- the languid curtain of falling raindrops that marked the night before has grown thin and cold in the chill of the morning, and each one feels as sharp as a needle where the wind drives it into his exposed skin.

He ignores it except to flinch away when a gust drives a series of icy pricks into his face, climbing the side of the cistern to peer inside.

It’s very nearly full- may have been, even, if not for the barrier of the manor in front of it and the ruins bracketing the property on all other sides- and clear enough that he can see all the way to the bottom.

It looks clean. It’s rainwater. No one has lived in the area for centuries.

It probably _is_ clean.

He drops a chlorination tablet in anyway, compromising with himself by not dropping in the second demanded by a cistern so large.

He lingers for a moment, watching the tablet sink and fizz below the rain-pitted surface of the water before looking up.

The pure silence of the place, broken only by the tapping of raindrops and the occasional cry of a bird, makes it easy to forget that it’s in the middle of what was once a city, not the countryside. The crumbling buildings that surround him seem like a rude imposition on the isolation of the scene- they turn the paved yard and overgrown paddock of the stone building behind him from something slightly whimsical into something almost sinister.

There are no trees, here. There are the browning remains of small plants growing through cracks in the stonework and pushing up between seams of the yard’s uneven tiles, but there’s nothing taller than the bowed rooftops of the fallen city as far as the eye can see.

There’s no green except in glimpses on the horizon.

Something about it feels familiar in a nauseating way.

He lets his eyes skim across peeling shingles and rotted woodwork, blinking against the rain. Under the swaybacked overhang of what was once a balcony, he spots a bird.

It cocks its head- at him or something else, he doesn’t know.

After a moment, he decides that it’s a crow.

He pulls the cistern’s lid back on and goes inside.

Eren is awake, but barely- he greets Levi’s appearance with an owlish blink and a delayed smile.

Sleeping on wet hair has done him few favours.

Levi snorts. “Are you awake or just sleepwalking?”

Eren shoots him what he’s pretty sure is supposed to be a puzzled look. “I’m awake,” he yawns, scrubbing at his scalp with a grimace. “What about the meat?”

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s being asked.

When he does, he can’t help the bemusement in his voice. “I think that’s something you’d be better off asking anybody but me,” he drawls.

Eren turns towards the kitchen, starting to speak but stopping to humour another yawn. “Hey, what happened to the meat? Sasha?”

“There’s a smokehouse beside the butcher shop a street over,” Zoë’s voice calls back instead. “Sasha’s been smoking and curing it since last night- she’s gone to check if we’re not going to starve to death.”

Levi thinks their voice is entirely too cheerful for the content of their speech.

He catches Eren yawning out of the corner of his eye and stifles a sympathetic yawn, grunting in displeasure when it comes anyway.

Zoë pops their head into the room with an easy grin. “Have you shown him the books yet?”

Levi furrows his eyebrows at them. “What?” He’s starting to feel like Eren’s sluggishness is contagious. “No, I-“

Eren is looking at him with a mixture of puzzlement and interest.

He sighs. “Oi, want to look at some shitty old books you can’t even read anyway?”

Eren looks insulted. “I can read! I’m not illiterate, Levi,” he argues defensively.

Levi just rolls his eyes.

“With that attitude, I’d almost wonder,” he mutters.

***

The hidden room isn’t any less boring and inexplicable the second time he sees it, and he finds himself playing with the gramophone again, curious to see if it still works.

He nearly breaks the damn thing when an unfamiliar voice speaks behind him.

“ _Wände anstelle von Fenstern_ ,” it says roughly, “Huh.”

By the time he’s whipped around, he’s already reconciled the words as having come from Eren, but how foolish he feels for being so startled only irritates him. “What?” he snaps before biting back a slew of invective, closing his eyes to calm himself.

 _“Ein Handbuch für die zukünftigen Überlebenden des Sturzes der Menschheit_ ,” he reads aloud, “It’s a book about surviving the end of the world.” He flips through the first few pages with a small frown. “I think it was translated from another language, though, a lot of the phrasing in this is kind of weird. I mean, it’s not… _wrong_ , necessarily, but it’s just not how you write in German.”

Levi looks at him.

Eren looks back.

“So you speak German now,” Levi tells him. It’s not a question.

Eren’s visibly puzzled. “Yeah?” His eyebrows gather moodily. “I’ve always spoken German. Jäger, the hunter, remember? German name? I’m German, Levi.”

“Levi is a Hebrew name, but that doesn’t mean I speak anything but English, kid,” he retorts drily, irritation fading into exasperation.

Eren’s looking at him like he can’t quite decide if he’s joking. “ _Hallo! Ich heiße Eren. Der Name meiner Mutter ist Carla. Der Name meines Vaters ist Grigori aber jeder nennt ihn Grisha. Wie heißt du?_ ” he says slowly, over-enunciating each word as though he’s speaking to a child before shooting Levi a flat look. “My mom was born in Stuttgart and moved here with her parents when she was six, and my father grew up in Königs Wusterhausen, a town sort of south of Berlin, and he didn’t come here until he was already an adult.” He grimaces down at the book in his hands. “Man, I had trouble in elementary school because we didn’t speak anything but German at home until I started kindergarten,” he confesses. “I’m really fucking German, Levi.”

He’s struggling with a mixture of profound relief and deep suspicion. “You were speaking English on the phone with your mom,” he accuses. Eren fixes him with a weary stare.

“Like I said: my mom grew up here. It was my dad who made us speak German at home.”

“Couldn’t speak English?” It’s almost sympathetic, but it comes out sounding stiff and disbelieving.

Eren lets out a sharp laugh. “No, he spoke English just fine,” he mutters bitterly, “My mom’s German was a little rusty, though, ‘cause she’d speaking English most of her life. I think he just wanted to make sure she wasn’t closer to me than he was.” His tone turns sour. “I didn’t even know he could speak anything but German until I was almost eight- I forced my mom to talk to me in it around him because he let me believe he wouldn’t understand us if she didn’t.”

Levi hums, trying not to dwell on his relief in light of what Eren’s just told him.

 _‘It was just German,’_ he thinks gratefully, _‘he speaks it and it’s close enough to English that it wouldn’t be crazy for me to understand a few words.’_ He sweeps aside the nagging doubts that linger. A part of him wants to shake Eren for not telling him sooner.

“Your dad sounds like a real piece of shit,” he says instead.

Eren smiles wanly at him. “ _Er ist ein Schweinekerl_ , that’s for sure,” he murmurs. His eyebrows furrow again. “Why were you so worked up over me speaking German?”

He tries to summon an excuse and draws a blank. He opts just to gaze impassively at Eren.

Eren’s sudden coy look takes him by surprise. “Is this like… a language thing you have, or…?”

He stares blankly. “A what?”

The knowing look he receives as an answer is indecipherable.

***

He’s almost forgotten about it when he discovers what Eren had meant.

He’d been sending Levi meaningful little glances all throughout breakfast, but the remainder of the day had seen them separated for their various tasks- everything from replenishing their food and water to gathering research materials for Zoë. Over dinner, Levi had mentioned that Eren was going to start missing classes if their adventure continued for much longer and Eren had suddenly realized that they’d missed New Years, prompting him to fret over the lost opportunity for socially justifiable misbehaviour and Sasha to mourn the food she could have eaten at the expense of others.

It had been nothing unusual.

The covetous hands that creep around his waist as he’s stripping off his shirt that evening, however, sort of _are_.

“Eren?” he questions, still pulling his arms from the sleeves. He shivers as fingertips begin to wander along the hollows between his hipbones and his lower abdominal muscles.

A low vibration through the press of Eren’s chest against Levi’s back is the only answer he gets.

When one of those dangerously wandering hands brushes over Levi’s dick- tentatively firm already, because this scenario seems pretty promising if he’s reading the air right- he grabs at it with a hiss. “Eren,” he murmurs warningly, “what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Eren hums mischievously in his ear, fingers stroking over what little they can reach of Levi’s erection. “ _Ich will dich nur ein bisschen berühren_ ,” he whispers, pulling against Levi’s grip to palm him through his underwear. “Fuck, _ich will deinen Schwanz lutschen_ , Levi.”

He swallows, groaning as Eren’s hand draws back to slip under his waistband, his fingers finding skin. “I have no idea what you just said, but I’m going to assume it’s related to the fact that you’re playing with my junk right now,” he breathes. Eren places a kiss against his jaw.

Levi can feel him smiling as his hand retreats.

He turns quickly, grabbing Eren by the front of his shirt.

He’s pretty sure he knows what’s going on, at this point- how his peculiar behaviour was misunderstood and how that’s impacted what’s happening- and while he does not and has never had an especially pronounced fascination with foreign languages, Eren seems to be taking no small amount of enjoyment from the situation, so he’s not feeling inclined to correct him.

There’s a heavy look behind Eren’s stare that unsettles his mind but only draws the tension in his groin tighter, and Levi lets him caress his shoulders and chest and look him over with those worshipful eyes for a minute before tugging him close again.

The kiss is briefer than he’d been aiming for- fiery and lustful, yes, but gone before it has the chance to smoulder, gone as Eren kisses his collarbone, his chest, the separation of the muscles above his navel, the bone of his hip-

Levi bites down a strangled moan as Eren pulls down his pants and underwear and mouths at the underside of erection rather boldly.

“Well, I guess I know what it means to _Schwanz_ someone now,” he mutters wryly as Eren starts to suck.

Eren chokes almost immediately, pulling off and coughing. It only takes him a second to realize that Eren is laughing at him.

“No, that’s-” he splutters, “ _Schwanz_ is cock, _lutschen_ is ‘to suck’.” He rests his forehead on Levi’s thigh. His shoulders are shaking. “ _I want to cock your suck,_ ” he wheezes. “God, _Levi_.”

Levi can feel the heat rising in his face. He looks away with breathy huff. “I have a gift for ruining the mood,” he sighs. “Let’s never do this again.”

Something warm and wet presses against his dick and he stumbles on the last word.

Eren has returned to mouthing at him, eyelids heavy but eyes watchful. “ _Ich bin noch nicht fertig_ ,” he reproaches, adding a soft, “not even close,” before sliding his mouth back down.

The mania of the night before is resurfacing.

The room is starting to feel much too warm for the season and the circumstances- he knows logically that the sun has set and that there’s a not wholly unpleasant chill to the air, but it feels like the middle of summer and a part of his mind is convinced that light is still coming through the windows.

He’s fisted his hand in Eren’s hair. He doesn’t know when he did it.

He watches Eren’s head bob under his hand for less than minute before the knowledge that he can touch him- _is_ touching him, is being touched by him- gives way to that dying man’s craving for _more_.

He wants to fuck him.

He wants to do all sort of unspeakable shit to him, most of which he just finds kind of confusing or depressingly indicative of desperate loneliness, but mostly he just wants to fuck him.

Implausibly thoroughly and for hours on end, maybe, but the urge is comfortingly identifiable nonetheless.

_‘This is really fucked up.’_

He pulls his dick out of Eren’s mouth with a grunt, patting his hair absentmindedly when he looks up.

He can feel Eren’s eyes on him.

 _“Der Geist?”_ he smiles, eyebrows rising with amusement.

Levi makes a face at him. “I feel like you just asked me a question,” he grouses, “but the only German I’ve learned from this encounter is _Schwanz_. I can only say ‘dick’ or ‘shit’ in German and you’re not asking me about either.”

Eren blinks and then laughs, settling back onto his haunches on the floor. “Sorry, I- I started thinking in German,” he admits sheepishly, “Give me a minute to start thinking in English again. I was asking if it was the ghost.”

Levi grunts affirmatively, tugging his pants back up despite Eren’s noise of protest. “There is something seriously fucked up going on with me.”

The feeling of Eren’s hands stroking up his thighs draws his attention. “Why are you doing up your pants?” Eren asks him, squeezing before swaying to his feet. Levi’s already begun to miss being taller than him by the time he straightens up. “You should be talking those off,” he murmurs mischievously, “and crawling into bed with me, _mein Betthäschen_.”

“I don’t know what you just called me,” he sighs, “but it’s probably better if we sleep separately, Eren.”

Eren’s arms stiffen halfway through sliding around his neck. “I called you my bed bunny,” he whispers, drawing closer. “Why?”

“I don’t know why you would call me a bed bunny either, Eren, you’re the one who said it.”

“It makes sense in-” Eren starts and then stops, narrowing his eyes. “Why do you think we should sleep separately, Levi?”

Levi draws in a deep breath and meets Eren’s gaze. It takes some effort not to flinch at the cautious mixture of suspicion and hurt he sees there. “There’s something seriously fucked up going on with me,” he repeats, “and I don’t want to do something fucked up to you.”

Eren frowns. “I’m an adult. I can handle myself,” he argues.

“I know that, it’s just that you’re-” He stops to almost run a hand over his face before thinking better of it. His palm has begun to itch. “I feel like you’re my responsibility,” he mutters quietly, “I can’t be the one who’s responsible for something happening to you.”

Eren is just looking at him with a weird expression. “You feel like I’m your responsibility,” he echoes.

“Yes.” He scrubs his palm against his pants, trying to subdue the itch.

“And you’re worried about me getting hurt.”

“Yes,” he answers simply. His palm is still itching. He looks down at it in irritation.

“Okay, _Daddy_ , you gonna tuck me in and read me a bedtime story now? Do I have fucking softball practice in the morning, too?”

He can hear the sarcasm and frustration hiding under Eren’s childish falsetto, but he still can’t stop his head from whipping up or the involuntary grimace that emerges on his face. “ _Never_ call me that again,” he snarls, adding a dry, “what did I tell you about putting your daddy issues on me, _son?”_

Eren’s eyes widen marginally before he laughs, tightening his arms around Levi’s shoulders. “ _Es tut mir sehr leid, Papa,_ ” he snickers, “It won’t happen again, please don’t spank me!”

The urge to roll his eyes is overwhelming. “God, you’re a fucking brat,” he murmurs, uneasy mood slightly lifted nonetheless, “at this rate I really will have to beat some respect into you- I haven’t forgotten that shitkicking I still owe you.”

Eren makes a sound that can only be described as a chortle. “I’d like to see you try, _Da_ -” He falters when he catches an eyeful of Levi’s expression. “…old man.”

“Not much better, but it’ll do,” he growls, and then slaps Eren’s ass sharply for good measure. “Go to bed, you little shit.”

“Only if you join me in it,” Eren responds instantly, nosing boldly at Levi’s downturned face in an overt attempt to get a kiss.

Levi snorts. “I have serious doubts about your ability to resist hopping on my dick, Eren. Are you going to behave?”

“Nnnope,” he smiles.

Levi hisses in a breath as Eren gives up trying to kiss him and buries his mouth in Levi’s throat instead, fingernails scratching lightly at the skin of Levi’s bare back. He can feel Eren’s erection pressing at him through his pants. “You,” he grouses, slapping Eren’s ass again, this time with more force, “have no fucking respect, do you?”

It’s only when Eren lets out a shuddering moan against his shoulder, hips rutting forward in a shaky burst, that he pauses. “You fucking _like_ that, don’t you?” he accuses, twisting his fingers in Eren’s hair and hauling his face out where he can see it.

“What, the spanking or the getting bossed around?” he asks in a way that Levi’s pretty sure was intended to be cheeky, but comes across kind of wrecked by his breathlessness and blown pupils.

He feels the corner of his lips tug up. “Both, considering they’re pretty much the same thing when it comes down to it,” he mocks lightly, tugging Eren’s head again experimentally. “What, did you not get disciplined enough as a kid or something?”

Eren’s laugh is more of an unsteady groan. “I guess we’re learning a lot about each other today,” he breathes.

“And ourselves,” Levi mutters, yanking him in for a kiss.

It’s not until he’s already got Eren on the bed that he remembers that they’re both still mostly dressed, and he yanks Eren’s shirt over his head with such impatience that it gets stuck.

He stops to laugh. It’s pretty funny.

Eren throws it on the floor triumphantly when he finally gets free.

“Oi, pick that shit up,” Levi orders. The words feel strangely automatic, but the way Eren scrambles to comply without so much as a hint of backtalk is both gratifying and a little unsettling.

He watches Eren fold it with a certain interest. The fact that he’s folding it at all comes as a surprise, but _how_ he’s folding it is even more peculiar.

Not in the middle and over, as would be easiest, but in from the shoulders and once at the waist, like it’s expected that he demonstrate some level of professionalism even in this setting.

Levi doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eren fold anything before. Even his dresser drawers just seemed to be a vaguely impressionistic muddle of colours.

When Eren removes his pants and begins to do the same- folding them not in the middle but from the belt loops above the pockets, tucking the fly between them and pulling the crotch straight- Levi finally interrupts him.

“They’re jeans, not fucking dress pants,” he points out, puzzled.

Eren looks down at them like it’s a fact he’s just noticed, shrugs, and finishes folding them, albeit with less care. He doesn’t meet Levi’s eye when he turns to face him.

Levi furrows his eyebrows. “Are you waiting for me to tell you to get your ass over here, or something?” he asks, exasperated. Eren startles and blinks. “Get your ass over here, _Jesus_.”

Eren doesn’t, but he does grin at him with considerably less robotic absentmindedness than before. “You’re still wearing your pants.”

Levi looks down.

He is.

Eren throws himself down on the bed with a snigger as Levi shoves his pants down and steps out of them, snatching them up impatiently. “I was distracted by your weird ass folding,” he retorts, “it’s like your hands think we’re going to the fucking ballet later.”

Eren is watching him with a little strange little smile. “Levi.”

The seams aren’t straight. It’s bothering him. This is why he hates cheap, mass-produced clothing.

“Mm?”

It suddenly occurs to him to wonder where his shirt went.

“You’re doing it too.”

He looks down again.

He is.

He puts them down on top of Eren’s with a frown.

They stand and sit in silence for a moment.

“Eren.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Eren laughs, protesting that he wasn’t even saying anything as Levi shoves him back down on the bed.

“You were looking at me,” Levi contradicts, wrestling him onto his stomach and pinning him.

Eren snorts into the pillow. He turns his face to the side, craning his neck to look at Levi out of the corner of his eye. “I like looking at you.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he grumbles, burying a kiss into the skin at the nape of Eren’s neck. Eren shivers beneath him.

“ _Weil ich dich liebe_ ,” Eren murmurs softly.

His mouth is suddenly very dry. He leans his forehead against Eren’s shoulder blade. “I lied.”

“Huh?”

“It turns out I do know more than two words of German.”

Eren’s quiet for a moment. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t be,” he whispers back. He feels Eren shifting like he wants to turn over. He holds him in place.

There is a part of him that is freaking the fuck out. He’s almost certain it’s showing on his face.

After a moment of stillness, Eren pushes his hips back, arching his spine.

Levi can feel the haze descending again, but it’s almost a welcome distraction.

This person inside of him, whoever he is, isn’t particularly conflicted about being the recipient of Eren’s affections.

If Eren were to say it again, Levi suspects he might answer with something like,

“I know. You’re not subtle enough for me to have missed that, Eren,”

and it seems a hell of a lot better than whatever he was doing before, so he lets himself sink into the muddled heat of it, grinding against Eren’s ass and biting playfully at the shell of his ear.

Eren groans, rubbing back against his quickly reviving erection in a rolling motion that tugs at it in a way that prompts him to straighten it in his underwear before questioning why he’s still wearing them at all.

He gets laughed at when he shoves Eren’s hips forward to fumble his underwear down to his knees. Eren gets his own yanked down and a hard slap to the ass for his trouble.

Judging by his shuddering cry, it’s not entirely unwelcome.

Levi caresses the reddening flesh with some amusement. “Hey, roll over. I want to see what kind of face you’re making.”

Eren shakes his head where it’s buried in the pillow. He has his arm draped over back of his head defensively.

“No?”

Eren shakes his head again.

He is having a very strong urge.

“Why not?”

Another shake of the head. The tips of his ears have gone dark and rosy.

It’s becoming difficult to ignore.

“You want me to stop?”

After a moment, another shake.

He gives in and twists his fingers Eren’s hair, yanking his head back a way that can’t be entirely comfortable combined with the way his back is arched.

“Eren, I asked you a question.”

Eren looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust. His thighs are shaking against the weight Levi’s leaning into his ass with. “Huh?” he yelps breathlessly, looking torn between panic and ecstasy.

“Do you want me to stop?” he enunciates carefully.

“No sir,” Eren answers immediately.

He knows Eren too well by now to be surprised by the remarkable sight of his flushed cheeks darkening even further, but a part of him still is, somehow.

“Not bad,” he murmurs. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes sir!”

He actually almost laughs at that. Reality sobers him. “I didn’t bring any condoms.”

Eren hums in a way he finds a little suspicious. He mutters something Levi’s not sure he heard quite right.

“What?” he snaps.

“We could go bareback,” Eren repeats shyly, lower lip pinched between his teeth and eyes wary like he’s expecting Levi to say no.

Which he has every right to.

Because the answer is no.

“I don’t think I could ever be desperate enough to willingly shove my dick into direct contact with your next dump, Eren,” he refuses flatly. He grimaces at the idea. “Come out with bits of corn and shit stuck to it or something. Anyway, we’re not having sex without a condom, so- why are you laughing?”

Eren looks like he can’t decide whether to throw up or wet the bed from laughing too hard.

“You are the _grossest_ ,” he wheezes, “obsessively clean person I have ever met.”

There are tears gathering on his lower eyelashes. Levi watches them gather and fall, marking their paths down Eren’s cheeks with a small frown.

He sighs, edging his knees backward and shoving Eren over onto his side. “Go to sleep, you goddamn turd.”

Eren whines. “I brought condoms,” he objects desperately, “and lube.”

Levi just looks at him.

He doesn’t even need to say anything.

“I thought it was at least worth a try,” Eren says nervously. “Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry.

Levi grabs him by the back of the head and shoves his face into the pillow for a moment before letting go.

“Hurry up and get them before I decide wrecking you is more trouble than it’s worth,” he growls, slapping him on the ass so hard that the sound of impact is almost louder than Eren’s surprised yelp.

As he watches Eren pull on his pants and scurry out of the room, he has a moment of inspiration.

It’s not hard to get one from Zoë’s supplies.

He has no doubt they’ll notice it’s gone, but the thought doesn’t concern him terribly right now.

He feels vaguely guilty when he thinks about Sasha’s horrified expression and then decides that he doesn’t care enough to refrain from giving her a reason to look so put-upon.

Eren’s already returned in the room by the time he gets back. He greets Levi’s entrance with visible relief, and then confusion.

“Did you go out there naked?”

Levi looks down at himself. “Oh.”

Eren’s confusion grows visibly. “Is that a rubber glove?”

“It’s a latex glove,” he corrects, turning it over in his hands.

He watches Eren struggle with comprehension before the light bulb goes on behind his eyes. “Oh! That’s really smart, actually.”

“I feel like I should give you a sticker or something,” Levi tells him, amused. Eren opens his mouth. Levi interrupts him. “Just take off your pants and get on the fucking bed, Eren.”

As soon as he’s kneeling between Eren’s legs, he slips the glove on and drizzles a bit of lubricant onto his index finger, marvelling at how different the sensation feels through the barrier.

“It’s like a condom for your hand,” Eren murmurs inopportunely. Levi responds by pressing his gloved finger against his asshole without making any attempt to warm the chilled fluid coating it.

Eren lets out a sound that is unmistakably a squeal. “That’s fucking _cold_ -”

“Don’t say unnecessary things,” he cuts in, “you’re ruining the mood.”

The indignant expression that provokes fades when Levi begin to rub the muscle in a circular motion, his free hand stroking Eren’s erection leisurely. He makes a face when Levi slides his first finger in. “Okay?”

Eren shrugs lazily, hands wandering up Levi’s chest. The worshipful look is back in his eyes. “Yeah,” he breathes, and then furrows his eyebrows. “Just a little different.”

They haven’t had enough time and practice- due in part to the complications Levi encounters during the preparation required for the act- for Eren to even begin to approach a level of familiarity that would rush the process, so his eagerness for more comes as a surprise.

Levi slides his second, then his third finger in, frowning. “This can’t be comfortable,” he mutters incredulously, scissoring against the resistance of the muscle.

The way Eren is panting, his hips jerking forward against Levi’s hand in little spurts, seems to indicate otherwise, but he can’t help feeling skeptical. He presses his free hand down on Eren’s abdomen, stilling him. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Eren clenches around his fingers. “Levi,” he purrs.

And it _is_ a purr- the sound is so uncharacteristically self-aware in its seductiveness that he finds himself looking up in surprise.

Eren has fixed him with a strangely ferociously look. “Will you do something for me?”

Even through the haze of arousal and conflicting desires, alarm bells are ringing in his head. Everything about this seems dangerous.

He swallows. “Depends on what it is.”

“Fuck me from behind,” Eren demands. He narrows his eyes at him inquisitively.

It’s not something they’ve never done before- in fact, Eren had complained in the past about not liking it because he couldn’t see Levi’s face.

Eren’s expression now is one of diabolic rebelliousness. It’d be funnier if a strange and foreign part of Levi’s thoughts didn’t find it despair-inducingly erotic for reasons completely beyond his conscious comprehension.

“...Okay,” he agrees, a little confused, and Eren scoots backwards off of his fingers, rolling over onto his knees.

He’s about to vocalize his concern over whether or not Eren is prepared enough when the words die in his throat.

It comes in like a rush- the straps across the back of his thighs, trapping his ass in a _‘v’_ of leather, the curve of the apron emphasizing the way it swells beneath his tailbone- noticing it for the first time, hating himself for noticing- the first time Eren has the balls to edge past him through a doorway with his back turned instead of face-to-face- the way he can’t help the soft hiss of his inhale and how it happens again and again after that- how by the third or fourth time he has to accept that it’s not an accident, that at some point Eren caught one of his glances and worked up the nerve to torment him intentionally in the hopes that he’d acknowledge how Eren had been looking at him for months _or was it years_ now, in the hopes that he might even betray some interest beyond those brief absentminded glances downwards-

The way he never does, doesn’t even have to try all that hard to resist because it’s easier to not do than it would be to do, but still succumbs to the temptation of thinking about it, thinking about bending him over for rubbing that ass against him one too many times, thinking about punishing his impertinence by indulging it even though he knows that’s what Eren wants, what Eren thinks he might be able to get from him if nothing else-

He’s stripping off the glove and rolling on a condom in a rush and it’s high noon and summer outside and he wants this stupid overconfident kid with an almost resentful ferocity he can’t begin to understand and he’s not nearly as gentle as he should be but Eren takes his hard entry with a guttural moan of satisfaction anyway.

Eren responds to his sharp, bruising rhythm by burying his moans in the pillow. He doesn’t even try to resist the urge this time.

He hauls him back up by hair again, half-bent over him and leaning all his weight into his thrusts.

He has no idea what it is that he asks Eren, only that his responding words are punctuated by a Morse code staccato of panting stops, each one perfectly aligned with another slam of pressure against and into his ass, and he has no idea what it is that Eren says, either, only that he loves the way he can barely say it.

It’s almost too much.

He feels crushed under the weight of his own agency, more like a dog left unattended in a butcher shop than a human being- there are too many conflicting urges, too many things he could do- things that have never occurred to him yet he’s thought about at length with no expectation of ever getting to do any of them, and yet here he is, with too many options instead of too few.

He pulls Eren onto his knees, dragging him back to lean against his chest as he pounds upwards into him, digging his teeth into the meat of his shoulder with a vicious sentiment that’s less of an “I love you,” than it is a mixture of an indignant “how fucking dare you,” and a half-hearted “I’ll kill you for doing this to me, you little shit.”

Eren howls breathlessly, but it doesn’t sound pained.

It barely sounds human.

A part of him has a full-blown panic attack at the sound while the rest tries not to lose its mind at the feeling of Eren grinding down on his lap for more.

He has to stop for a moment, trying to get his breathing under control.

Eren takes over, bouncing on his dick to replace the movement of his thrusts, slowing but not stopping to pant out, “Are you okay?”

Levi just grunts, guiding the rhythm of Eren’s pistoning hips with his hands for a moment.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Eren,” he moans, thrusting up arrhythmically until he can match Eren’s movements. “When did you get so fucking good at this?”

Eren just laughs in a way that sounds drunk and reaches an arm back, fingers tangling in Levi’s hair. “Levi, fuck, _Levi,_ ” he mewls, and that’s it, he can feel the tightness that’s been lingering uncertainly in his lower abdomen starting to pull and his thoughts have turned incomprehensible, half-nonsensical but familiar like the words on the pages of that cookbook.

He wraps an arm around Eren’s waist and sets a rhythm so ruthless it takes so much effort out of him that he can no longer speak, but the end is a strangely elusive glimmer on the horizon, illuminated by sheer intensity of sensation but obscured by the bizarre feeling that it’s _not enough_ , that this might be the last time and it has to count.

He’s only vaguely aware of swearing, but sharply aware of Eren’s body arching in his grip and Eren’s fingers tightening painfully in his hair and the sting of it drives the echo of paranoia from his mind and he comes so hard it actually _hurts_ , so hard he can feel his fingers tightening on Eren’s hip so convulsively that he has no doubt it’ll bruise, hard enough that he actually can’t see for a moment, that everything goes white and his body is a jumble of disconnected parts caught in the thrall of painful ecstasy.

He’s vaguely aware of Eren pulling off of him with an uncomfortable little hiss and slightly more aware of Eren brushing his hair out of his face.

Very dimly, he registers that he can see the ceiling. He has no idea when he fell onto his back.

“Levi, are you okay?”

Eren sounds like he’s not sure if he should laugh or be genuinely concerned.

Levi’s not sure either.

He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

“I think I have brain damage,” he admits stupidly, and Eren starts laughing uncontrollably.


End file.
